


Icarus Ain't Got Shit On Me

by GeekTriangle



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton-centric, Deaf Clint Barton, Demigod!Clint Barton, Demigod!Everybody, Demigods, Gen, Greek gods, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Clint Barton, Past Child Abuse, Percy Jackson AU, Teenagers dating each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekTriangle/pseuds/GeekTriangle
Summary: Clint Barton never was more than a lonesome nobody, circus hick with countless grudges and scars, runaway orphan with an authority problem. And he was doing fine. Or at least, had been doing fine. That was until he nearly died and the only place he had dared calling home had burned to the ground. Sent away by the circus's fortune teller and chased by monsters straight out of his nightmares he makes his way to some random camp on Long Island. A place filled with people like him. Or so they say. Clint didn't quite believe it. Clint 'screw-up' Barton, a demigod? No way.A Percy Jackson AU
Relationships: Background Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Relationship, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 97
Kudos: 272





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have been working on this story for quite a bit. Working on it on and of and loving it. This is maybe the most indulgent thing I have written, purely inspired by my favourite Winterhawk fanfics and my cheeky love for Rick Riordan's work. 
> 
> The story is currently I think 1/3 finished and is already at 20 000 words. The story outline is also completely done so it's just a matter of writing it down. My original plan was to post this story only when it was entirely done, however as the end of the year is coming closer I am feeling the stress of some few deadlines and things, and my winter depression is coming down with a vengeance. I couldn't think of a better way to cheer myself up to fling this story into the world and maybe make y'all Winterhawk fans who love these kinds of AU's happy too.
> 
> What is my update schedule going to be like? At least one chapter per week, probably around fridays The moment I finish this story the whole thing will start updating a chapter a day. 
> 
> Also, something for the peeps who aren't familiar with the Percy Jackson franchise but still want to give this a shot? No worries! The only thing you need to know is that the Ancient Greek Gods alive and they get kids a lot. These kids are called demigods, or half-bloods, and they have formed a summer camp. Only a few minor charachters from Percy Jackson are going to make an appereance. I just stole the setting from the books and yeeted everything I could grab from Marvel in it. Clint doesn't know what the heck is going on either, so you can just read along with him and learn about the world at the same pace as he does!
> 
> TW / CW for this chapter  
> \- Harm to animals (and monsters, but screw those guys!)  
> \- Mentions of child abuse

The drive might have been relaxing. You know, with the clear starry sky, a sultry breeze and no other cars on the road. It might’ve been, if not for the horrible piercing cries that sounded through the night, and if that didn’t wasn’t disturbing enough, the whimpering of the dog that was slumped on the backseat was nearly worse than the sound of the monster, creature, or whatever the futz was still hunting him. 

He spared a glance behind him. The dog’s golden fur was matted with blood, and from where he sat he couldn’t see the dogs left eye but he didn’t need too, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t forget that image anytime soon.

'Hang on buddy, we’re almost there.' He muttered. 

Almost where? God knew. Someplace that didn’t even exist on the map. He wasn’t even sure why he was still going. Well, that wasn’t completely true. It was because he had nowhere else to go. His brother gone, the circus burned down and never would he ever go back into the foster system. And the fortune-teller had always seemed nice, he could probably trust her directions. She had never tried to stab him, like his mentors had, or beat him up, like his father had, or starve him, like some of the foster families had seemed intent on doing. She was nice, or, had been. He had no idea if she was even still alive. 

Another screech pierced through the night, and this time it was a hell of a lot closer than the first one. And if the gas pedal hadn’t been rammed down completely before it sure as hell was now. He hit a bump in the road and the dog whimpered. Clint clenched his jaw. As soon as he got the dog to safety and got his hands on some more arrows he was going to kill that thing. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he was going to do it. 

' _Turn left and you’ve arrived at your destination.'_

Destination? What destination there just was a stupid hill and a tree that-

Whatever crashed into the side of the car did it with so much power that the car was thrown to the side. Glass shattered and the airbags exploded. There was a yelp as the car crashed against the hill. It rolled once, and then twice before it shuddered to a halt. 

For a moment, there was nothing. But then, slowly, senses returned to him. First, he felt a cutting pain in his chest. Then, he heard a drip, and then another before he became aware of something hot sticking to his face. He heard his own ragged breathing at the same time he felt grass sticking to his cheek. He opened his eyes and was assaulted by a wave of dizziness. On reflex he scrunched his eyes shut but then he forced them to open again. The car was on its side and the only thing that kept him hanging in his seat was the seatbelt that was cutting into his chest. Adrenaline spiked and he took a sharp intake of breath. Something shifted in his chest and he supposed it would’ve hurt if he currently wasn’t high on adrenaline.

Shit shit shit shit, the dog, where was the dog?! Clint twisted as far as the seatbelt would allow and looked at the backseat. 

It was empty, the dog wasn’t there. The backseat was littered with the glas that had previously been the rear window. The only trace of the dog where the red staining grey fabric of the seats.

Shit shit shit-

He braced his feet against the floor of the car and fumbled for the seat belt buckle. He came free with a click, and it was a testament to his rattled state that he still slid further against the car door. Part of his body weight pressed against his shoulder and Clint couldn’t suppress a groan. He bit his lip, found that it was split already, and maneuvered his arm so that it he could push himself upright, or, at least, up. He reached for the door on the other side of the car, the one not currently half wedged into the ground, and pushed it open. Then he wrestled himself half out of the car. He could feel the car move with him. He had to be fast, but not the too reckless climbing out of the side or the car would just topple again and crush him. Clint Barton, survived the crash but then crushes himself to death with the car. It would be typical Barton luck. It might’ve happened too, if he hadn’t been taught how to balance on a tightrope fifty feet above the ground shooting arrows at moving targets without the safety of a net to rely on.

So Clint got out of the car alright. He pulled himself out of the doors and perched on the car. For one treacherous second that sight of the lurking shadow still on the road nearly made him crawl right back in. The shadow moved and another horrible screech that made him wish he wasn’t wearing his hearing aids sounded from the beast. It spread its wings and where before it just had been the size of a small garbage truck it was now the size of a truck other trucks for beakfrast. A truck made of leathery skin, claws like razors that could cut through metal (he had seen it happen), a tail long and thing that was still strong enough to crush a car, and inexplicably, a chicken head stuck on top.

You might think that was funny. In any other situation, it indeed would’ve been funny. But, Clint had seen first hand what the beast was capable of. After that, it hadn’t been so funny.

It’s head was swerving his left to right while it paced. With his sharp eyesight, Clint could see the two arrows still sticking out of the beasts head where once its eyes had been. How it had managed to follow Clint all the way from Manhattan while being blind he couldn’t fathom. But still, the thing was here, and probably just as dangerous it had been before Clint had shot his eyes out. 

Lightning split the sky above him and thunder rumbled. Before Clint could wonder where the lightning had come from while a moment ago the sky had been clear he heard another noise. A whimper. He turned and spotted the golden patch of fur in the grass. Oh thank god at least the dog was still alive.  
Another lightning strike and Clint’s sharp eyes caught the shimmer of his bow and quiver lying in the grass.

Before Clint could make a decision the creature moved. It’s head snapped to the direction of where the whimper had come from and it roared. Then, not unlike the gooze that had always chased him at the circus, neck stretched, wings still spread, beak snapping, it charged. This gooze however, was twenty times bigger than it was supposed to be and had to ability to shred freight crates. 

And, and, it was running at the dog and no futzin creature was going get away with hurting a dog while Clint was on watch, not even one as big and deadly as this one.

'Hey! HEY CHICKENSHIT!' Clint shouted and he jumped from his car. He hit the ground running and launched himself at his weapons. The creature roared again and Clint could hear it’s claw dig into the ground as it adjusted his course. Good news: it wasn’t going after the dog anymore. Bad news: It was now going after him. 

His fingers brushed over his bow and with his other hand he grabbed his quiver. He threw it over his shoulder and without looking he threw himself to the right, hoping, praying that he had been quick enough. The beast barreled past him, his clawed just nearly missing him. It’s outstretched wings momentarily blocked out the night sky but then the beast was past him. A horrible smell assaulted his nostrils and he nearly vomited right there and then. However, he was a little to busy for that.

Clint used his momentum and pushed himself upright. He had two arrows left. Two bronze arrows the fortune teller had pushed in his hands the night she had pulled him away from the flames of the burning circus tent. ' _Flee if you can._ ' She had said. ' _Use these if you can’t._ '

He adjusted his stance. With another one of its screeches the creature turned. It was gonna charge him again. Clint had nowhere to hide. He would get crushed by the car if he ducked behind it. He would never make it to the pine tree on the top of the hill before the creature was upon him.

Two arrows left, better make good use of them. 

He nocked an arrow, the wire tensed. He didn’t know where the thing’s heart was, but, shooting at its head had proved ineffective if you wanted to kill it. He aimed and his back shoulder was aflame as his muscle cramped. Still, he didn't’ waver. The ground shook beneath him as the creature rushed towards his, screeching as it did so. He slowed his breathing. He prayed the thing actually had a heart. He exhaled and his hand relaxed and the arrow left his bow. It whizzed to the air, he imagined he could hear its whistle, and, and, and-

It bounced harmlessly of the tough leather skin. The beast didn’t even stumble. Clint’s eyes grew wide and he took a step backwards. The horrible stench became stronger as the beast got closer and this was it, the thing was going to kill him. He would’ve thought he died from some kind of infection or shot in an ally or something. Not killed by some weird dragon chicken hybrid. He took another step backwards and if his fate hadn’t already been sealed it now was. His foot got caught in a root sticking from the ground and Clint fell painfully on his back. He twisted and could see it the claw coming for him just as the horrible smell of the beast filled the air. He was going to get shredded, the same way the dumpster had been yesterday in the alley, and, and-

Shadows seemed to come together in front of him. They swirled around him and then solidified. They seemed to take the form of a man and then it weren’t shadows in front of him but an actual boy. A guy dressed in black, and sleeves cut off his hoodie and brown hair messily tied together in a bun. He couldn’t see the boys face, but what Clint did see was the bronze contrasting against the boys silver hand. 

Then the sword slashed down and the claw separated from the monster in an explosion of gold blood. The beast howled in an impossibly high pitch and staggered backwards. It was balancing on its last remaining leg, blind and flapping with its wing to escape from whatever had just suddenly cut off its claw. The boy turned around and Clint was met with bright blue eyes and a face that was a testament that life wasn’t fair. He looked at Clint with a scowl that he was pretty sure could freeze hell. The air seemed to cool around him as the boy reached for him and dragged him upright with more force than a boy should have.

'What in Zeus’s name are you doing?' He hissed. 'Get up to the hill, you idiot!' He then shoved him into the direction of the tree and Clint staggered a few steps backwards staring, probably with stupid big eyes, at the guy that just had ,literally, materialized out of nothing.

He might’ve rubbed his eyes make sure he was still seeing it all correctly if he hadn’t spent the last day being hunted by a Franken-MCchicken-Snake monster. The boy pointed up the the hill, and jep that definitely was a metal arm, and growled.

'Go!'

Before he turned his back to Clint again and face the beast. The beast, still blind but not certainly not deaf. It balanced on its leg and its serpent neck lashed out, the beak open and filled with razor teeth that definitely didn’t belong in a chickens mouth. 

The kid was going futzin die. No way he-

'Bucky watch out!' a second voice shouted just before a red blue shield smashed into the the monsters head. The beast got thrown off course and stumbled. Having no other leg to stand on it crashed on its side in a mess of leathery skin, gold blood and long limbs tipped by spikes and claws.

Clint head snapped to the side as he looked up the hill. On the top of the hill stood another boy. His head crowned by short blonde hair, broad shoulders and small waist, in comparison to his shoulder at least. It probably was still massive. He looked like a marble statue had come alive and then had decided to wear a aggressively orange shirt and then climb up a random hill and there he was.

He charged down the hill and caught the shield that had come flying back to his direction. He didn’t even pause as it clicked back onto his raised arm. 

'No shit Stevie.' The guy grumbled before he dodged out of the way of a flailing wing. 

'Sam!' The blonde-haired boy shouted even as he raised his arm to throw his shield again, 'Get that guy to camp!'

For a second Clint thought the guy was talking about the brown-haired boy still playing tag with the monster but then somebody grabbed his hand.

Another guy was already dragging him away. He shot Clint a half grin that really didn’t seem appropriate for the situation.

'Hey man, no worries you’ll get the hang of it in no time. For now, better let those guys handle it.' He said even as he was pulling towards the top of the hill. 

Clint stumbled after the guy, Sam, too confused to know what to do else. He would’ve followed the guy all the way up the top of the hill if it wasn’t for the dog. 

He had almost forgotten about it, but as another lightning strike split the air Clint saw the unmoving golden patch of fur and no way he was leaving it behind. Monster or no monster.

'Shit!' He cursed before he pulled himself out of the boys grip.

'What?!- Hey! Are you out of your mind?' The guy shouted to him even as he grasped for him, but Clint was too quick. Behind him, he could hear the frustrated roars of the beast. In his periphery he saw other figures gather on the top of the hill, some of them were shouting, others raised sticks that looked remarkably a lot like spears. Clint ignored them. The dog, the dog had saved his life and-

He skidded to a halt and next to the limp form. The dag wagged once with its tail as it saw him but then let out another whimper. It couldn’t even wag without hurting.

Clint crouched down and whispered nothings to the dog as he tried to carefully reached for it.

'Shh boy, it’s okay, it’s okay.'

Behind him the creature screeched and Clint could hear the beating of its wings. Clint turned just in time to saw the beast rise up into the air. Its tail lashed out and slammed against the blonde boys shield yet the force knocked him backwards nonetheless and he with a heavy thud he slammed on his back. Immediately the brown-haired boy was at his side, seemingly again having appeared out of nowhere. Even from where he was crouched he could see the glare on the boys face. The monster hovered above the two, the stump of his leg barely bleeding anymore. It swiped again with his tail at the brown-haired boy. However, he was prepared. He stood, and with the blue and red shield clasped on his metal arm he parried the blow. The beast craned its neck and it was preparing to strike again and that was when the stone Clint had thrown connected to its head.

'HEY YOU FUGLY!'

It wasn’t a sophisticated insult. Hell, normally Clint was a lot more creativity when insulting somebody, or rater, something. But, it had been a long day. It didn’t matter anyway it worked. The beast turned without hesitation, the noise of Clint’s shouting guiding where it needed to go. With another beat of its wing it launched itself through the air. 

He was pretty sure Sam and the Bucky guy were shouting something.. But, between the screeching, the boom of the creature’s wing and the blood rushing through his ears even his hearing aids couldn’t make out was what said. Not that he was practically interested. He had one shot left, and that beast still had to pay for hurting the dog. He reached for his last arrow in his quiver and time slowed. The beast had folded its wings against its body as it shot through the air. He could see golden specks of blood dried on the arrows that were sticking out from where its eyes had once been. 

Clint nocked his arrow and the wire tensed.

The beast moved and one of its claws reached for him. Only a few seconds left and he would turn to shreds. Still, he waited. Archery was waiting for the moment, right? Waiting for when everything all came together. He stood unwavering, bow raised and arrow nocked and he didn’t notice the glow that was coming from his body, like his skin had been painted by the rays of the sun of the brightest summer day. He didn’t notice the light that swirled all around him.  
The beast opened its maw to roar in triumph and its teeth reflected the light.

'Eat shit.' Clint whispered and he released the arrow.

The arrow sprouted in the beast’s throat and the roar turned into a howl. It went limp even as it was still was hurtling through the air, for a second he was afraid that the beast would kill him anyway by crashing into him, but then it exploded into a cloud of gold dust.

For a second the only thing he heard was his own exhausted panting. Dotted on the hill were various other kids. They were all staring at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place. Even the brown-haired boy and blonde were staring at him. Or not at him, but at something _above_ him.

That was when Clint noticed the already fading glow of his skin. He looked up and saw the golden image of some kind of instrument floating above his head fade into nothingness.

'Huh.' He said to nobody in particular. 'Neat.'

Then everything went dark and he was unconscious before he hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH my god I am so stocked and curious to what you are people think of it. Thank you so much for reading! I hope y'all are excited for this AU as I am because I love it. Hype with me in the comments or spare this poor sinner a kudo maybe <3
> 
> Also, have a question about the premise or something else? Don't be afraid to ask! I'm happy to explain.
> 
> Thank you so much!! Love y'all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! I hope you had happy holidays! I'm keepin it short because I am currently leeching internet from an airport and it's a pain. 
> 
> Thank you so much everybody who commented and left kudos! If I haven't responded to you yet, I will get to you!! and I love you, all the same <3 <3
> 
> By the way, this story isn't beta read, but as I English is my second language and my dyslexia keeps getting in the way of things it may be that there is something I do consistently wrong, (hell in another old story I kept mixing up death and dead) feel free to point it out!
> 
> TW/ CW for this chapter  
> Harm to animals  
> Past mentions of child abuse (just to be safe)
> 
> I hope you enjoy <3

_ Clint immediately knew where he was. Even through the fire and smoke would he recognise the only place he had ever seen as home. He stood in the middle of the sandpit, the circus tent and tribunes burning There had been nowhere to go. Even as he looked another pillar of fire set exploded on the far side of the tent. Outside people were screaming. Even over the roar of the fire he could hear the faint shouts of their terror. He didn’t know if they were shouting because of the fire or because of the dragony beasts that had set the tent on fire in the first place. He could still see them outside, their shadows moving around on the canvas like some horrible puppet show.  _ _  
_ _ The memory, or dream, or whatever it was continued and Clint could do nothing. His muscles moved on their own accord. He whirled around looking for an exit or means to make one when a green glint caught his eye. Buck, still wearing his Trickshot outfit from their show that midday was standing on one of the tribunes. Fire danced around him, but the licking flames inexplicably did not get closer. He wanted to shout, he wanted to scream and run. Instead his shoulders sagged in relief. He remembered feeling relief. Buck would get help, he had thought. Now he could only watch with terror as he experienced the memory like a spectator. Knowing what was going to come but not being able to do anything about it. 'Trick!' He shouted and he raised his arms, catching the attention of his mentor. _

_ Even from this distance he saw the smile curled around the master archer’s lip. Trickshot raised his bow and Clint froze, dread filled his stomach like a loaden stone. Fire reflected madly in Buck’s eyes and his feral grin turned the man that had Clint taught all he knew into a stranger.  _

_ Agony exploded in his chest where the arrow sunk deep into him. Pain clouded his vision and he couldn’t see anything. He stumbled backwards, grasping at his chest and his mouth contorted in a soundless scream. He hadn’t even been aware that he had fallen but suddenly he was lying in the sand.  _

_ The upside of dying was that it took away the pain. Even as he stared at the flames the pain starting to ebb away. It took everything else with it and there was nothing left. _

_ -o0o- _

It was nice. 

Clint didn’t often feel nice, or at least, not so relaxed as he did now. He drifted for a bit between unconsciousness and consciousness, the dream that had plagued him earlier chased away by the cozy warmth of the sun rays he felt on his skin. He faintly was aware that he was laying on a mattress, although he couldn’t really remember climbing into bed. He didn’t hear anything, but that wasn’t really cause for alarm. Most mornings he woke without being able to hear anything, as sleeping with his hearing aids in made his ears feel stuffy and gross. He moved his arm and the soft texture of freshly washed linen brushed against his hand. He could faintly smell strawberries.

Slowly he was dragged to consciousness until he was just laying on the bed with his eyes stubbornly closed. Buck and Dunesque never let him sleep in, and he thanked whatever god that had made them forget about him today and idly wondered what was happening at the circus that had caused that. 

The circus.

It had burned down.

The memories of the monster and carcrash rushed back to him. With a sharp intake of breath he shot upright, and immediately regretted it. Pain shot through him, his body felt worryingly like that time when he woke up in the hospital after his fall from the tightrope. It made him feel queasy. He looked at his chest and found it wrapped in crisp with dressing. Two of his fingers were splinted together. His other wrist was wrapped in the same dressing. Spread over his skin where various fresh cuts and bruises. Some were covered by bandages, others not. For a moment he kept numbly kept staring at his treated injuries. Somebody had taken care of him, and he had no idea who, or maybe even more importantly, why.

Nothing was free, definitely not where he came from. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of something wet nosing him. A grin split his face as the dog went all in and pushed his head in his hands. 

'Lucky dog.' He mumbled as he petted the dogs head, even if he couldn’t hear it. The dog was bandaged up, just like him, one of them completely covering the left side its head. A quick glance over the rest of the dog's body betrayed even more bandages. The dog didn’t seem to mind though, and encouraged by Clint’s words he put his none-splinted paw on his bed and pushed himself up to lick Clint's face. Laughing, he couldn’t help it, he gently pushed the dog down his bed, not wanting for it to hurt itself. The dog wasn’t that it easily discouraged though, it just kept wagging its tail and pushing against the bed.

'Good boy, good boy.' He whispered, or at least, he hoped he was whispering.

He casually looked up and immediately tensed, the grin falling off his face.

Sitting on the bed facing the one he was laying in was a girl only slightly younger than Clint himself. The girl, who he might’ve called pretty if the alarm bells in his head didn’t immediately start ringing, was studying him, her head tilted slightly to the side as if he was a slightly above average puzzle. Her wavy red hair fell to her shoulders. She was wearing the same bright orange T-shirt the blonde boy had worn on the hill. It was only now that he noticed the logo of a winged horse on it. ‘ _ Camp Halfblood _ ’, it read. Around her neck a beaded necklace moved as she said something. 

He didn’t catch it, so he just kept staring. The dog didn’t really agree with the fact that Clint had stopped petting him and was now even more aggressively shoving it head in Clint’s hand. The girl raised her eyebrow.

Clint glared, his default response for when people were bothering him. Or like, did anything else. Hell he couldn’t help it some fuckwad had taken his ears.

She seemed slightly amused by his response,  _ not _ the reaction Clint had been going for.

She then raised her arm and opened her palm. Laying in her hand were his skin coloured hearing aids.

Clint’s glare deepened. 

She rolled her eyes at him and stubbornly kept her arm raised, offering him his hearing aids. 

After a few seconds he begrudgingly took them. He fitted them in his ears and fiddled with the volume. He snapped his fingers beside his ears and frowned. He repeated the process, but still the volume wasn’t right. Actually, it was all over the place. Great. Not only was he beat up, his hearing aids were too. 

He looked up and the girl was still staring at him.

'What.' He asked rather brusquely, and even he realised that if his mother had lived long enough to teach him proper manners that she would be appealed.

She ignored the question.

'What’s your name?'

'What’s  _ your _ name.' He immediately shot back. He had just as enough right to know the answer to that question as she had.

She regarded him for a moment, maybe internally debating if she should answer or just stab him with the knife she was now cleaning her very-clearly-not-dirty-nails with. Where had that thing come from?

'I’m Natasha.' She said after she had inspected her nails. Clint didn’t buy into the act of indifference. After another second she looked up at him, probably expecting an answer now that she had indulged him.

Clint stayed silent. 

Instead, she took a different tactic. She pointed at the dog. 

'What’s his name?'

And- Hell, Clint didn’t know that. It was pure coincidence that Clint had noticed that the dog was a "him" at all. It wasn’t even his dog. It was just a dog that had saved him from that monster-thing that had trapped him in some New York alley. You know, like dogs do, and then dog had paid the price, and in no universe would Clinton Francis Barton ever leave a dog in the literal claws of danger, especially not a dog that had just saved his life.

So after he had repaid the creature double for taking the dog’s eye he grabbed the mutt and hijacked the first car he spotted, racing to Long Island and no idea if that would save him from the beast. And, apparently, it would. He was still alive, the dog was still alive, and as far as he knew, the beast was dead.

Clint wasn’t normally a lucky person. 

He was silent for a moment longer, absentmindedly petting the dog and his heart melted a little bit as he caught the pet’s loved filled brown eye. 

'Lucky.' He decided

'Hmmm.' She hummed.

The dog, or Lucky as it was now named, sighed as Clint scratched him behind him his none bandaged ear. After shooting a last glance at Natasha, reassuring himself that she wasn’t going to bury that knife in his thigh or something, he looked around the room. 

It looked like some kind of infirmary. Not the hospital kind, it looked kind of the opposite actually, more resembling the first aid tent they usually set up at the circus. Except, this one was a bit neater, but only just. A few other beds were set next to hem in a neat row, all with freshly washed white linen. The wooden walls were sparsely decorated, making room for the big windows that let in the golden light that he had felt warming him earlier. On one end of the room a wall was filled with medical equipment, some new they were still shining bright, and looking so old and brown Clint felt like he had gotten tetanus by just looking at them. Under the tools, there was a table on which a ridiculous mountain of bandages and salves was piled up.    
Besides him and the girl, nobody was in the room, except Lucky of course. 

He looked back to the girl, who had been studying him as he studied the room. 

'What is this place?' He asked

The intensity with which she looked at him might’ve made him squirm if Barney hadn’t made sure to beat that particular insecurity out of him even before they left for the circus. For a few seconds she kept studying him.

'You don’t know.' She concluded.

It shouldn’t have taken her that long to figure that out, especially if you took into account the question he had just asked. 

'There was no satyr with you, right?' She continued, frowning a little bit. It might’ve passed as worry if she had actually been looking at him, but she was looking at the dog. As if the dog might answer the question. But the dog didn’t say anything.

'A what?' Clint asked instead

Her frown deepened a little bit and she turned her attention back to him. Then something shifted in her. Maybe it was a trick of the light, maybe it was the way she half-smiled or maybe it was how her voice suddenly turned soft as silk. 

'Can you tell me where you’re from? You’re old for a half-blood, surely somebody must’ve protected you?'

Clint didn’t know what the hell she was saying. Yet, he found that he wished that he knew what she was talking about. Not for his own confusion, no, because he wanted to answer her properly. Explain to her all she wanted to know. It was a little tragic he couldn’t. 

'Carson’s circus' He sighed wistfully instead, feeling a pang of regret it was only so such a small bit of information, only an answer to one of her questions, but maybe that would satisfy her.    
'The circus?' She repeated a bit harshly, like she wasn’t believing him, and the frown was back and the spell was broken. Clint almost could feel himself snapping back to reality, like an elastic band used to snap. He bared his teeth, not really bothered if it made him look half-feral.   
'What the hell are you doing? Are you one of those monsters that suddenly keep popping up everywhere? Because I promise you I killed enough of them that you won’t be any proble-'

'Natasha! What did I tell you about interrogating the new arrivals?'

Clint immediately turned to face where the new voice was coming from. In the stairwell there now was a middle-aged man in a wheelchair. How it the hell he had suddenly gotten there, Clint couldn’t imagine. The man's legs were covered by a soft-looking blanket. His bushy beard was growing grey, just like his hair, but deep brown streaks of brown were still clearly visible. With his tweed jacket and frowning face, he looked like a rather disgruntled professor. At least, Clint thought that was what a professor was supposed to look like, not that he had much experience with them. Unless you counted the polish magician at the circus who claimed he had a PHD in chemistry. He didn’t think a star-covered cape and witch hat was proper professor attire though. 

The girl, Natasha, huffed and and slid of the bed. The knife had disappeared again, where she could’ve hidden it he had no idea.

'Someone’s gotta do it.' She said loud enough that even with his spacy hearing aids Clint could hear it. The way she glanced at him just before she disappeared through doorway made him think that was exactly what she wanted. It was a rather poor excuse for apology, but it wasn’t like Clint had received many apologies in his life so he was glad to take it. If he wasn’t stressing about the other guy in the room he might’ve even understood her distrust. But, at the moment he was stressing about the man in the wheelchair so he didn’t.  
  
Looking at the man Clint realised for the first time he was unarmed. He didn’t know where his bow was or the little pocket knife the Swordsman had given him. Where the girl had also felt dangerous this guy made him feel even more on edge. The girl had felt like a snake in the grass, hidden and not striking until you got close enough, and you know, Clint could kinda relate to that. This man wasn’t that. While at a first glance the man might’ve looked old and weary, when you took a second longer you might notice the callused hands, strong arms that were slightly too big for the guys clothes, the wrinkles on his face weren’t caused by old age but rather by spending many hours out in in the sun. He reminded Clint of the big stallions that they once had at the circus, until one of them broke a guy’s back with one kick and the Strongman put a bullet in its head the same afternoon.

The man watched the girl go. Then he turned back to Clint. Lucky, the traitor, abandoned his side and half ambled half stumbled towards the man in the wheelchair. Lucky’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as he pushed his head on the man’s lap, and the man smiled a bit sadly. Then he turned that same smile to Clint, who was kind of contemplating jumping out of the window.  
The sad sad smile made him think that the guy also saw him as some stray dog that got involved in a traffic accident. Well, in a way, he kinda was.

'Clinton.' He said and there was an edge of pity in his voice that Clint didn’t like at all, 'My name is Chiron. You and I have a lot to talk about.'

-o0o-

_ The afterlife wasn’t fun at all. Well, to be fair, it wasn’t like he had expected to go to heaven when he died. He had relieved too many stranger of their wallets to do that, and even that was barely made the shortlist of the worst things he had done. But, he kinda had hoped for purgatory. The throbbing pain in his chest clearly indicated that he had ended up in hell instead. Somebody moaned and immediately there was a cool hand on his face. He realised that he had been the one to make the sound. A woman’s voice spoke in a language he couldn’t understand, and Clint kinda thought he was hallucinating. Or maybe it was a demon just chanting over him before stabbing another spear in his chest. It was a mystery that required him to open his eyes to solve it and even that seemed to much work at the moment.  _

_ 'Hawkeye, awake, we haven’t got much time.' This time, Clint recognised the voice. _

_ And Clint opened his eyes and with a start he realised he was dreaming again. This had all happened before, more accurately, it had happened a month ago. The fortune teller was bent over him. Her long stringy grey hair fell from her shoulder and it tickled where it brushed over his skin. Her wrinkly face covered was covered in soot and her clothes were partly burnt. Her hands, with long bony fingers which were bent and knobbly by arthritis, were completely clean. She had thrown off her woollen shawl she always wore, always complaining about the cold that plagued her, or maybe it had just burnt up in the fire. _ _  
_ _ As he opened his eyes she frowned. She touched his skin and her frown deepened even more.  _

_ 'I can’t give you more, you’re already running a fever.' She sounded disapproving like it actually was his fault he was running a fever. _

_ 'Bah, at least your wound has closed. Thank Zeus for your father, he would’ve hit your heart otherwise.' _

_ Maybe she was having a stroke, because the last person he would ever thankful for this life was his father. Who had died ages ago by the way, and Clint was glad of it. _ _  
_ _ 'Who-' He tried but she immediately stopped him. Her voice whipping like only that of old ladies could do. _

_ 'Don’t ask questions, it won’t do you any good.' She said as walked out of his vision. A second later he could hear the rattling of glass as she went rummaging through one of her closets. It was then that he had recognised where he was. The fortune’s teller caravan. He spent quite some time it, often listening to the old woman’s story or being berated by her as she tried to teach him how to read. 'You kids are all the same.' She had chided. 'Can’t read English even if your lives depended on it.' _ _  
_ _ With a start he realised that while he was in the fortune teller caravan the other sounds of the circus were eerily absent. With an ever bigger start he remembered the- _

_ 'Fire.' he said. _

_ He could hear the fortune teller huff. _

_ 'Jacques always had an unhealthy obsession with drama. That fire did him more harm than good.' _

_ 'Who-' He tried again. _

_ 'I did, and I told you to not ask questions, their answers will only hurt you more than they will help at this moment. If you reach your destination, all will become clear soon enough.' _

_ There was no way the fortune teller had pulled him out of the burning tent. She simply didn’t have the strength. Clint wasn’t done growing but he hadn’t been small for quite some time now, and an old lady like her would barely able to move him a few feet, let alone all the way back to her trailer. _

_ He opened his mouth to ask another question but another glare of the old witch made him quickly close it. A smile tugged at her lips, but it quickly turned bitter. _

_ 'Good. Now, listen. Your life is going to depend on it. You have a long journey ahead of you.' _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to happen!!!  
> God bless Natasha, you're gonna see a lot more of her.  
> And other people  
> A lot of other people
> 
> Again, if you have any questions about the premise or anything else don't be afraid to ask! (I won't spoil things but I'm happy to explain <3 )
> 
> Let me know what you think, it means the world to me <3
> 
> <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Thank you so much for being here, again! Sadly I haven't had time to get around to responding to your lovely messages yet, but boi do I certainly read them! They kept me going these busy days, so thank you very much and I will get around to them <3
> 
> TW / CW for this chapter  
> Mentions of past child abuse

Day had turned to night and he kinda had the feeling other people would feel relieved under these circumstances. He didn’t really feel it though. He was still thinking about his dream. How after she had told him to travel to Long Island, the fortune teller had given him a quiver filled with bronze arrows, and how she told him to not look back and to keep to himself, how she had promised that his question would be answered if he reached his destination alive. He looked at the arrow he was twirling in his hands and grimaced. Questions had been answered all right, but maybe the truth was worse than not knowing. He sighed and laid the arrow next to him and stroked Lucky’s soft fur. The dog was sleeping next to him on the porch. Chiron had warned him that harpies patrolled the grounds after lights out and attacked any camper still out and about, usually with bloody consequences, but Clint had figured if he just stayed on the porch of the big house he should be save. Lucky sighed but remained asleep. At least the dog seemed happy to be here.

He was pulled out of his gloomy thoughts as a shadow took a seat next to him. He only needed to see a glimpse of her red hair to recognise her. 

They sat in silence for a while. He imagined she actually would be able to hear the sea Clint was only smelling. 

He might’ve still be angry with her for ambushing him like that in the healing rooms, but that now seemed ages ago. So much had changed since the morning. 

'This is stupid.' He said and in the silence of the night his voice sounded way louder than it probably was. The story Chiron had told him was ridiculous said out loud, thinking about it after their conversation was done, it sounded even worse. What the hell was his life? He shouldn’t need to convince anyone that he wasn’t a demigod. It should’ve been obvious. Hell, it  _ was _ obvious.`

Natasha didn’t flinch at the sudden words. She didn’t even look surprised. She kept looking ahead of her, her eyes following the same firefly Clint was currently tracking.

'Why so?' she asked, as one might talk about the weather, and Clint barked a laugh. It didn’t have any mirth in it.

'Because my dad was the asshole who beat his family every time he finished his drink, which was a lot, by the way. Because my dad was the idiot who wrapped himself and my mom around a tree while his kids could barely read. Because I’m just some circus hick who had been taught some tricks with a bow and how to pick pockets to make a living. I’m not the son of some..’ he vaguely motioned his hand in the air somewhat, unable to find the words. Or rather, unwilling to say them.

His voice was as bitter as he felt. This had to be some kind of joke. Maybe he had somehow stumbled onto a cult.

She then finally turned towards him. Her brow was furrowed a bit. She looked him over once again, like the marks his father had left on him might suddenly be visible between the ones that had been caused by the car crash. A breeze travelled through the strawberry grove and its sweet scent filled the air again. Her hair swayed gently in the wind. Yet, despite her scrutinizing gaze, she didn’t say anything. She just turned her head to look at the strawberry fields. It was quite a while before she spoke.

'I don’t remember my mortal parents.' Clint looked at her and at first thought he had imagined her voice. She was still staring ahead, her hair gently waving in the wind. But then, not taking her eyes of the grove, she continued.

'I was at a different camp before I found this one. They called us different there. Told us we were made for special things. I believed them, or rather, was made to believe them. They made sure I knew how to kill before I even knew what killing truly meant.' The only thing that betrayed any emotion were her hands. They turned white with the force with which she was gripping the porch with. Clint scanned her face, but not even her lip quivered.

'I escaped though. Then I came here, and they told me I was the daughter of the goddess of love. I didn’t believe them. How could someone like me, somebody who had done the things like I did, be the daughter of love? It had to be some kind of stupid joke.' She turned her face to him and Clint was startled by the fury he saw on it.

'Yet, I stayed.' She said with an determination Clint didn’t think he’d ever be able to match. 'I didn’t believe them, but I stayed. At least here I would have a change to do some good. No matter if they thought I was something I was not.' The fury lessened a bit and before Clint could recognise what emotion replaced it she turned away again.

'I-, just so you know. Don’t- don’t let expectations of others hold you down, or tell you what to do. The only opinion that matters is your own.'

A dark emotion crossed over Clint’s face.

'Yeah, well I think I suck- Ow! Why did you do that for?' He was rubbing his arm where Natasha had just punched him. Not gently either, if that spot wasn’t already bruised tomorrow it surely would be.

'You can’t say that.' She said with the offended tone that made it seem like he had just insulted her instead of himself.

'I thought the only opinion that mattered was my own!' His voice was pitched slightly higher by his hurt, both physical and mental.

She didn’t look particularly sorry though. She just jutted her chin high and flicked her hair.

'I changed my mind. Your opinions clearly suck. The only opinion that matters is mine.'

She stayed poised like that for a second longer, but then she glanced at him and a small smile betrayed her mirth. Clint tried to look indignant for a second longer but then, hidden for the world by the darkness of a moonless night, a smile carefully played about his face too. It seemed the most unlikely thing after all of this that after all this, after being abandoned, betrayed, chased and after losing everything he had held dear he would ever find something like a friend again, Yet, there on that porch in the middle of the night in nowhere Long Island, Clint liked to think that maybe, maybe he had found a friend after all.

She stood up from where she had sat cross-legged. She stretched her back and it arched backwards not very unlike that one of a cat. She let her eyes sweep over the field stretched and cocked her head at something that Clint couldn’t hear. Then she turned to him one last time. 

'Go back to bed. Tomorrow I’ll show you around and trust me, you’ll want to be rested for that. If you think learning about demigods is exhausting, just wait till you meet them.'

She was about to step off the porch when Clint whisper shouted, or at least, he imagined he was whisper shouting.

'Wait! What about the harpies Chiron was talking about?'

She grinned, her pearly white teeth flashing even in the dark, and Clint was reminded that just that morning she had been able to summon a blade seemingly out of nowhere. 

'Somehow I don’t think they’ll bother me.'

-o0o-

After his conversation with Natasha, he wasn’t bothered by other flashbacks or creepily vivid nightmares. He woke the next morning with the smell of breakfast filling the room. On a table next to the door of the healing chambers somebody had left a plate overly filled with steaming eggs, bacon, bread, grapes and even an apple and some milk. It was the most elaborate breakfast Clint had had in months, and that was even after he had shared most of the eggs with Lucky.

He was still bruised and covered in bandages but after he had peeked under them he found that most of the cuts had closed properly. It was as if days of healing had happened in a single one. And you know, if he wasn’t going to question the monsters that had hunted him down or the fact that the guy in the wheelchair was apparently an ancient centaur he certainly wasn’t going to ask questions about his sudden acquired fast healing. After breakfast he found the clothes that were laid ready for him.

A pair of denim jeans along with one of the orange t-shirts which almost everybody here insisted on wearing. He put on the jeans without a second thought, for you should never underestimate a pair of good jeans, but he hesitated a second with the t-shirt. He held it in his hand, rubbing the fibrant cloth between his thumb and finger and considered not putting it on at all. Only that would have him walking around in his torn and bloodied shirt he was still wearing. It had been one of his favourites, with the purple target contrasting against the white it had seemed made especially for him and now it was ruined. After another second of consideration, he traded it for the orange shirt. He had been in the foster system long enough to know what it was like being the new kid. Walking around in rags wouldn’t help his case, especially if there was a better option on hand. 

After he was dressed he took out his hearing aids and let them rest in his palm. He carefully examined them but he didn’t see any damage on the outside. After a little contemplation he disassembled them. Making his trick arrows with Trickshot had made him handy enough that he could figure out how to take something apart and with some luck put it together again. He checked the wiring, he checked the batteries but nothing seemed amiss. Still, the thing had been acting up ever since his car crash. It would either be too sensitive, making Clint want to wince every time a door creaked, or it would be set way too low, making the things almost useless and have him rely on his questionable talent of lipreading. 

He wanted to throw them against a wall. It would probably make some satisfying crack sound that Clint wouldn’t be able to hear anyway. Instead, he suppressed the urge to sigh and put the casing back around the delicate mechanics. Barney had one day shoved the case in his hands, grumbling something under his breath before stalking away. He hadn’t been around to see the emotion liting up Clint’s face when he had fitted the things in his ears. He didn’t know how Barney had gotten his hands on them, or how he had been able to find something that fit him or something that even worked. He had tried to ask, had tried to thank him, but by that time Barney wasn’t listening to him anymore. Rather planning his life without the circus, one that didn’t really involve Clint anymore by the way. A heavy feeling settled in his stomach and Clint shoved the hearing aids back in his ears. It didn’t matter anymore.

A moment later he was laying on his stomach reaching for the shoes that had ended up under the bed, which wasn’t made easier by the fact that Lucky was pressed up against him also trying to crawl on the bed because surely Clint must be hiding something good in there if he was doing all this effort when he heard, or rather felt the vibrations, of the door falling closed.

He shot upright only to immediately regret it because there wasn’t that much room under the bed. He banged his bed against the bed and cursed.

When he finally got out under the bed, with one hand holding his shoes and with the other one rubbing the spot on his head where he could already feel a bump forming, he spotted Natasha at the door with a bemused look on her face. He might’ve said something about that, if it weren’t for the fact that she was holding his bow. His glorious sleek black recurve bow. Not only was she holding his bow, she was also carrying his quiver, completely filled with arrows again, and his bracers.

'Here. I got these from Chiron before the Hephaestus kids could get their hands on them. I mean, they don’t do bad work upgrading stuff. But they often forget to ask permission.'

He vaguely remembered the name Hephaestus from one of the stories the Fortune teller loved telling but that really didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting his sweet, sweet bow back. The weight of the quiver on his back was reassuring, the feeling of the bow in his hand even more so. 

Natasha had stood by silently as he put on his gear and didn’t ask anything, it was only after he had put everything on, like he had done every day at the circus, that he started to think about that maybe, just maybe, people would disapprove of a kid walking around camp fully armed. But when he looked up at Natasha she only nodded, seemingly satisfied.

‘You’ll fit right in.’ she concluded.

Clint thought the only place he fit in was the circus, and he’d got nearly killed at the circus. He wasn’t completely convinced but he wasn’t going to question it either, or rather, he wasn’t going to question Natasha. 

-o0o-

They left Lucky by the big house. Whatever fast healing had blessed Clint hadn’t blessed the dog. After half a minute limping around it would whine and flop down. It broke his heart. He almost wished the monster was still alive so that he could kill it again, only this time a lot slower.

The good weather of the night had continued into the morning. The fresh chill of morning still hung in the air but would surely disappear soon. The grass was still wet with dew, the droplets sparkling in the morning rays. He could smell the apparently ever-present scent of strawberries, tinged with salt, in the air. At the edge of his vision the forest seemed shadowed in contrast with the bright and lush strawberry fields, which this time weren’t abandoned like they had been last night. A few kids, again with orange t-shirts, were plucking strawberries. The wind must be a lot stronger on the fields because the bushes almost seemed to bent towards the reaching hands of the kids, who then plucked the berries and put them in their weaved baskets. It wasn’t often that Clint had to do a second take to confirm that his eyes had spotted something, but this time he did. Some of the kids weren’t wearing brown jeans, no, that were their actual  _ fur-covered legs _ and those shoes weren’t actually shoes but honest to god cloven  _ hooves _ . Those were actual horns on their heads. 

‘Those are satyrs.’ Natasha said as she noticed his reason for slowing down. ‘They’re nature spirits. They help us protect and tend to the nature around the camp. They also go ou to find demigods and bring them back to the camp for their safety. It’s kinda a miracle one hadn’t found you.’

‘Hmm.’ Clint hummed while he slowed down a bit more, staring. He hadn’t realised he was standing still until Natasha tugged at his shirt.

‘Come on, there are more interesting things here than a few nature spirits picking strawberries. Just wait until you see the climbing wall. Something tells me you love it.’

And after Natasha had showed him the climbing wall, he did kinda love it. He could only imagine the view he would be able to get on the top of it. He loved it right up to the moment the walls split open and magma started oozing out of the cracks.

“That’s ridiculous, that’s crazy, that can’t be legal.” He had said   


Natasha had kinda shrugged.

“It’s not as hard as it looks, and the lava doesn’t hurt that bad.”

After this discussion went on for a few minutes Natasha nudged him and told him they would try it some time, then he could decided for himself. As they turned away from the wall a few campers approached with climbing gear, eagerly talking among themselves. He would’ve stayed to watch, it wouldn’t be every day you saw kids willingly trying to drown themselves in lava, but Natasha dragged him away before they got started. They walked back along the creek and past the lake. He could see blue-skinned girls bathing in the waters, splashing at the kids who seemed to be busy with sanding one of the canoes. As they made their way past the creek more people starting appearing along the path, laughing and talking. Most of them were armed or armoured. He saw swords, spears, shields, and he even saw a few people sporting bows and quivers. A few of them started to whisper among themselves as they passed, their eyes following them even after it became rude to do so. He had no hope of hearing what they were saying but experience told him they probably weren’t compliments. They never were compliments.

Natasha must’ve noticed his building unease the more kids they passed. Probably to distract him she pointed at some building that shimmered in the horizon. 

‘There’s the armoury and training fields. Every morning starts with weapon practice, but a few of the teachers haven’t arrived so the groups are still split up. One group has just finished so people are all switching places.’

‘Wait, you have weapon practice? Every day?’

Clint did have weapon practice every day. But that was only because the weapon was part of an act, an act he needed to perfect to be able to feed himself. Not because he needed to fend off monsters, although his skill with the bow had turned out very useful in his month on the road.

‘Yeah.’ She shrugged. ‘You don’t think it was coincidence you were chased by a cockatrice all the way to camp right? Those monsters, we’re like a snack to them. That’s what the camp is for. We train, we learn, we slay monsters. Sometimes we even make friendship bracelets.’

He imagined a room full of sweaty guys and girls, all in heavy roman armour, crowded in a little shack and bent over tables weaving colourful bracelets. Now, in his imagination, it didn’t look as ridiculous as he had thought it would look, not when everywhere he looked he saw people running around sporting that odd combination of roman armour and the bargain bin at some trendy clothing store.   
  
They followed the creek back from where they had came. It appeared that she hadn’t been kidding about the friendship bracelets because they walked past a arts and crafts area where he could indeed spot boxes overflowing with colourful threads, rope, paints, brushes, glue, dried flowers and for some inexplicable reason a crate of gunpowder.

After the climbing walls she showed him the amphitheatre, which was currently deserted. She told him about that often the campers would come together after dinner to sing songs and roast marshmallows. After the amphitheatre she lead him to a hill overlooking an odd assortment of houses. They were arranged to form a shape not unlike that of a cartoony looking horseshoe. Even more kids were milling around there, going from cabin to cabin and raising their hands as a greeting to other campers. 

Natasha motioned towards the little valley.

‘These are the camper cabins. Each one represents one of the gods and houses their kids.’ She pointed at a completely golden house, reflecting the sun rays that fell upon it and making it almost blindingly bright to look at. Shrubbery of laurels were growing around it. ‘That is the Apollo cabin. Your stuff was brought there and the other Apollo kids have probably already set up a bed.’ 

He stared at the completely golden house and felt queasy. He had spent most of his life sleeping in a cramped caravan with Barney. A golden house didn’t feel like a place for him. Then he thought about the other thing she had said. Apollo  _ kids _ . Immediately he felt stupid. There had been so many kids running around, of course each deity would have multiple children. Going by that logic it would mean that Clint had more than one brother, or half-brother. Heck he probably had half-sisters too. His queasiness suddenly felt a lot worse. He tried to imagine some other kid in Barney’s place and couldn’t see it. 

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Natasha said, probably sensing his unease even though he had tried to keep the emotion from his face.

‘Nobody expects you to immediately get cushy with the other kids. It’s more like a club, a frat house or something. You don’t have to go Christmas shopping for all your half-siblings, that would be a disaster with how many there are walking around.’

‘That many?’ Clint asked. ‘Does every god have that many kids walking around or is it just Apollo that couldn’t keep to himself?’

She kept looking at the cabins but tilted her heads, thinking for a second before starting to talk.

‘Most of the gods have multiple kids. But it varies. Like, if the god is married they probably have less demigod kids than those who aren’t married. The Dionysos cabin,’ she pointed at a cabin completely covered in grape veins, ‘only has four kids. While the Hermes cabin,’ and she pointed at the cabin that was the last one still part of the half-circle on the left, ‘has a lot more kids in it.’

For a moment Clint allowed himself to trade his unease for curiosity. Every house was wildly different. He saw a building completely covered in grass, another one seemed more like an army shack. He pointed at a cabin that seemed twice as big as the others. It looked like a big white box with two columns at the front. The big bronze doors shimmered as the air around it was on fire. Lightning bolts streaked on the sides.   
  
‘What’s that one?’

‘That’s Zeus’ cabin.’ Natasha answered. ‘The more powerful the god, the less children he generally has in modern days, so only one kid is currently living in it. But I’m pretty sure that Steve doesn’t even try to keep Tony out at night anymore.’

Clint traced the cabin’s artwork with his eyes. The lightning bolts sparked something in his memory. 

‘Wait.’ He said. ‘Is Steve the guy with the round shield and lightning crackling all around him? The guy that helped me the first night?’

She nodded.

‘He was following James. From what I heard the guy that stopped the cockatrice from literally shredding you.’

He thought back to the night he had arrived. How the blue-eyed boy had suddenly appeared before him chopped off the monster’s claw. He supposed he  _ had _ stopped him from literally being shredded.

‘Wait.’ He said.‘How did he suddenly appear like that? Like, there was nothing and then, poof!’ He accentuated the last word by opening his hands and showing his palms, ‘there’s suddenly a guy with a sword towering in front of me like I’m some damsel that needed saving.’

Natasha scoffed.

‘I’m pretty sure you were a damsel in distress that needed saving.’ 

He rubbed the back of his head.

‘Yeah, but you know…’

She rolled her eyes but then pointed at the a cabin at the opposite from the circle. It stood the furthest from the Zeus cabin and was completely black. Torches lit with green fire were mounted next to the door and gave the obsidian walls a sickly glow. There were no windows. The cheery image was completed by the skull, which Clint was pretty sure was an actual human skull, which hung above the door frame. He would almost prefer the completely golden cabin of Apollo over this one, but only just.

‘That is the Hades’ cabin. James is a son of Hades and children of Hades are sometimes able to manipulate shadows. Shadowtravelling just means that he can step in one shadow step out of the other.’

‘That seems.... convenient. So the Zeus’ kid can throw lightning bolts alongside his shield and the Hades’ kid can take the shadow uber instead of the an actual taxi.’ 

‘Pretty much.’ She said.

‘Hmmm. You got any magical abilities you’re holding out on me?’ He asked. He looked at her and imagined her maybe suddenly revealing that she could turn the lint in her pockets into knives or something. It would explain where she kept getting them from.

Instead she smiled coyly.

‘I’m not holding out on you. As a Aphrodite kid I can charmspeak. It’s pretty simple. I ask you something, and if I want you to do it, you do it.’

He nodded thoughtfully. That was simple, and useful. He could’ve just asked people to hand over their wallets instead of having to- wait.

‘That is what you did! In the big house, yesterday, when you asked where I came from!’ He couldn’t help but glare. But Natasha didn’t look like she felt guilty. Instead, she raised her chin a little and huffed.

‘What? You aren’t the only one that is allowed to be suspicious of strangers.’

‘I’m not suspicious of-’

‘Oh please, every time we pass one of the campers you either look like you want to fight them or run into the forest.’

‘That is not true.’ he said affronted.

‘Sure.’ She agreed easily. ‘Whatever makes you happy.’ and she turned to watch the cabins. They were silent for a few seconds when eventually Clint’s shoulders slumped.

‘Me and other kids don’t usually get along.’ He admitted weakly. It wasn’t like he and adults got along fine either. Maybe Clint wasn’t a people person. But, why did it sometimes then feel so lonely?

‘Hmm.’ she hummed in that non-committal way. She didn’t ask anything else, on why he shunned other kids. Somehow he figured she understood anyway, even if he had barely told her anything about himself. Maybe he didn’t need too. 

‘You wanna know what the other cabins are?’

‘That be great.’ He said almost sounding relieved. Maybe the only thing worse than barely having any friends was talking about the fact that you barely had any friends.

So she pointed at the other cabins and told random tidbits and facts. She told how Tony Stark had once destroyed half of the Hephaestus Cabin trying to make the cabin microwave shoot lightning bolts because he had been bored and had wanted to one-up Steve because “- _ controlling lightning is not hard!’ _ . She told about how Stephen Strange from the Hecate cabin kept trying to open portals into the Athena cabin to ‘borrow’ their books, and how the Scott Lang from the Hermes’ cabin had one day as a prank somehow convinced an army of ants to invade the Athena cabin and just steal the books instead. The assembly line of ants marching books from the Athena cabin to the Hecate cabin had been a sight to behold. She told about the conflict that was currently going on in the Ares cabin, how both Carol Danvers and Brock Rumlow kept challenging each other for the position of house head and that the conflict was starting to grow and even kids from other cabins had started to take sides. Clint couldn’t help but think that it was kind iconic that the cabin representing the god of war was currently fighting amongst themselves.

‘Some people think that Rumlow has the right to remain house head because he has been here a lot of a time longer than Carol. But others support Carol on the account that, in contrast to Rumlow, she isn’t actually a douchebag.”

At the end of her story Clint was nearly dizzy with information. There were many gods to keep track of and even more kids. He hoped that he wasn’t expected to know all of them, but he also had the feeling that if indeed these gods existed, and who was he kidding these gods certainly did exist the proof was all around him, that they weren’t that fond of being forgotten. 

Still, it was fun hearing about the gossip and antics of the other campers. It made them seem less intimidating.

They clambered down the hill and she pointed to a cluster of columns somewhere in the distance.

‘That’s the dining pavilion. It’s where we have breakfast, lunch and dinner. You usually sit with the people from your own cabin, but ever since Fury replaced mister D as camp director it isn’t that of a big deal if you sit somewhere else, if you don’t attract attention that is.’ 

Clint stored that information away for later. 

There were less campers walking around now. Probably because the classes had finished rotating told Natasha, so they didn’t meet anybody else as they walked towards the what was she told was the Arena. Where all the fighting happened and most of the campers would currently be at. 

‘But don’t worry.’ She said. ‘The Apollo cabin are probably still scrubbing the showers. Last week somebody enchanted the birds to tweet to the tune of Stayin Alive by the Bee Gees, it drove everybody, but especially Fury, mad. They got extra cleaning duty.’

He know if he should be grateful or relieved that Natasha could apparently read him that easily. It was true that he’d wasn’t that hyped about meeting what were apparently his siblings. The relationship with the last one hadn’t gone that smooth either, and he dreaded having to start all over again. On the other hand, the stunt his siblings had apparently pulled sounded even better than the one with the ants.

‘Wait, but how do they know if the Apollo Cabin actually did it?’

‘Well, nobody confessed but if there is some magic with music involved you can be almost certain the Apollo kids are behind it. While Apollo is the god of archery, he is even more the god of music. Most of the Apollo kids are able to do spells and enchantments through music-making. You never noticed animals gathering around you or some strange things going down when you made music?’

Clint clenched his jaw.

‘I,uh- No.’

He gripped his bow even more tightly to resist the urge to touch his hearing aids. He couldn’t play an instrument, let alone make music. Before he got his hearing aids Barney had once said that the howling and hissing of the stray cats sounded better than Clint’s tone-deaf shower singing. And even after he got his hearing aids, making music wasn’t something he could do or to be honest, had ever been interested in. The man that he had thought his father had made sure of that by beating the hearing out of him. 

The irony was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Natasha for once didn’t seem to notice his unease. She just kept walking, brushing her hair out of her eyes. 

‘Well, maybe something will happen when you play your music now you’re at camp. I wouldn’t sweat it if I were you.’

Clint was totally going to sweat it, he was going to sweat it right at that moment. But before he could start to sweat it they arrived at their destination. The Arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! This one was really fun to write, because finally, we get a tiny tiny glimpse from all the peeps who are hanging around in Camp Halfblood in this universe. For those who feel like it is going to be difficult to keep track of all characters and their parents, just like Clint lol, I'm going to keep a list in the endnotes with each character and their godly parent in order that they are mentioned or appear in the story.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading <3 
> 
> Clint - Apollo  
> Natasha - Aphrodite  
> Steve - Zeus  
> Bucky - Hades  
> Tony - Hephaestus  
> Strange - Hecate  
> Scott - Hermes  
> Carol - Ares  
> Rumlow - Ares


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to dear Apollo himself I will get around to answer your lovely comments. I freaking love you all, am so glad you guys seem to atleast enjoy this story as much as I love writing it. You don't know how much they mean to me <3 I just wanna take a teeny tiny moment to actually sit down and thank y'all proper. So, in a few days be prepared for me spamming answers!
> 
> I got a very busy day tomorrow so am throwing this chapter into the wild a bit early. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW / CW  
> No big ones I can think off, correct me if I'm wrong tho!

Instead of going through the big open gate like Clint had expected they would do Natasha lead him to a side entrance. Thick dark walls closed in around as they climbed several narrow staircases up. Clint had to hold his bow close to his chest to avoid scuffing the walls. But then they hit the open air again and he found they were at the outermost circle of the tribunes encircling the sandpit where a whole bunch of kids were practising. It reminded him of an Olympic stadium the kind where all kinds of different sport were taking place at the same time, only a bit smaller.

He could see people spar using all kind of different weapons. He spotted swords, spears, and even a net. Next to those who were sparring with each other there was another group of people with swords, only they were facing training dummies. Hitting the straw puppets on the rhythm of the shouting of the drillmaster. On a different part of the field, people were throwing spears at targets, most of them at least hitting the target but more than a few landing in the sand with an inaudible thud.

Watching the spearthrowers he saw their muscles bulging as they readied to throw again and sweat glinting on their brow. He wondered if he had enough power in his throwing arm to split a spear. He knew he could split his arrows when shooting, and he knew he could hit anything with anything he fancied throwing. He was imaging how much power he would need to split a spear, and how far he would have to stand for it too work when a something in the corner of his eye caught his interest.

He dragged his eyes away from the spear throwers and they landed on the group of people that were closest to where he and Nat were standing. They stood idling talking to each other, apparently not yet busy with an exercise but waiting for their trainer to arrive. All of them were holding bows. It wasn’t that difficult to figure out why Nat had picked this spot on the tribune then.

Natasha sat down and patted the place on the bench next to here. For a second Clint hesitated. Then he vaguely motioned to the sandpit below them.

‘Don’t you have to train?’

She leant back, tilting her head slightly back and letting the sun rays warm her face as she closed her eyes.

‘Nah, I told Chiron this morning that I would show you the camp today. Normally that is done by somebody from the same cabin as yours but I can be quite convincing. Sit down, Clint.’

He sat down.

Dit she use charm speak often?. It hadn’t felt like she had just done it. He figured she probably was speaking the truth and she was just naturally very convincing. Or scary. Maybe scarcely convincing. She didn't acknowledge him sitting down, just kept her eyes closed and continued basking in the sunlight. Clint, for his part, wished he still got his purple aviators on him. He didn’t know if they’d even survived the car crash. He hoped they had. Next to his archery equipment, they had been the most expensive thing he owned.

Not that he had actually paid for them. 

Instead of sunning like Natasha he looked back at the sandpit and if on cue the four guys appeared in the big open gates of the arena. It wasn’t difficult to recognise the blue and red shield, or the metal arm for that matter. He also recognised the third guy as Sam. The fourth guy he didn’t recognise, but the way the guy was laughing and making big motions with his arms made Clint think he wasn’t a kind of guy that kept his name a secret for long. He couldn’t help but trail the four guys with his eyes as they made their way to the spot where the spear throwers were gathering their thrown spears. They hadn’t spotted him yet, all the way back on the tribunes, and-

‘Natasha! I have been looking for you all morning!’

Clint startled at the sudden shouting and could just stop himself from jumping up and notching an arrow. Instead he whipped around to see another girl had appeared where the stairs disappeared into the arena walls. She was also wearing one of the orange camp shirts combined with shorts. Her dirty blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She squinted her blue eyes at the sunlight and used her hand to keep the sun out of her eyes.

‘Why in Zeus’ name are you all the way up here?’ She asked, shooting a glance down at the training teenagers in the sandpit.

Natasha opened her eyes and turned her head.

‘I was showing Clint the camp. Why, what’s the matter? Something happened with the Aphrodite cabin at the morning inspection?’ She frowned a bit.

The blonde girl wiped the sweat from her brow and took a deep breath to stop her panting. It looked like she run up the stairs, and maybe even ran before that.

‘No, nothing happened at inspection. But we need your help. We’re this close to convincing Strange to ditch the Ares team and team up with the Athena cabin instead.’

It was then she apparently noticed Clint. She shot her a slightly tired looking smile.

‘Hi, I’m Pepper by the way.’

Natasha kept frowning.

‘What you’d need my help for? If you want Strange on your team you just have to make sure Tony isn’t on it.’

‘That’s not true.’ She blew a strand of hair from her nose as she sighed in annoyance. Natasha raised a solitary eyebrow and after a moment Pepper rolled her eyes.

‘Okay maybe that is a bit true, but remember how Quintin promised to kick Strange’s ass after their discussion about whether illusions were real magic or not? Well, Carol just said that both the Iris cabin and Hermes cabin are on her team this week. You know I promised Maria that the Demeter cabin would join Athena but besides you, no other cabin has yet joined the Athena team. This is our chance to change that!’

Clint considered getting a notebook to keep track of who belonged to which cabin, and who did what. And, apparently, there were teams?

Natasha must’ve noticed her confusion because she explained, even as she stood up and brushed the nonexisting dust from her pants she said.

‘Pepper is stressing out about the teams for the capture the flag game on Friday.’

‘I am not stressing out! and if I was stressing out, that should be a pretty clear sign that you should be stressing out too. Are you helping or not?’

Natasha looked at him and asked.

‘You’d think you manage on your own for a few moments? When I’m back I can show you the armoury and we can pick up some training weapons.’

‘Uh, yeah sure that’s no problem. I’ll just wait… uhm, here then.’

Despite the insecurity in his voice Natasha seemed satisfied with the answer. She nodded and followed Pepper through the staircase opening and Clint watched her go. For a moment or two he was lost at what to do. Well, actually, there was only one thing he could do. He sat down again, placing the bow on his lap. Absentmindedly he brushed the sleek design of his trusted recurve. The Swordsman had one day gotten it for him, to the disgust of Trick, who had always prefered the wood above all other bow materials. Thinking about it, Trick’s bow wasn’t unlike the bows that he had seen being carried around at camp.

He looked back at the sandpit. The archers we’re still idling and the people who had been sparring had switched partners. His eyes trailed back to where the spear throwers had finally gotten all of their spears. He couldn’t help but look at the four people who had just joined them. It occurred to him that after their fight with the monster he hadn’t even thanked them for helping him, or had even spoken to them. He frowned. Maybe he should? He didn’t like being in debt, but he felt quite indebted to them already. It was just… Looking at how the guy, Steve, talked with the guy who had been overseeing the training, how he smiled and stood all straight. How the guy who Clint hadn’t recognised playfully bumped his side and lowered his sunglasses. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that they were the hotshots around here. And Clint? Well, he never had been the hotshot. Maybe they saved other kids from monsters every other day. Maybe they had already forgotten about Clint and his car crash. Looking at how the guy with the sun glasses was desperately trying to flirt with Steve, and yes it was that obvious even from this distance, and how Steve pretended to ignore it, it seemed they had different things to think about. 

His eyes wandered to the other two guys who had entered with Steve. Where the other pair had been flirting with each other, these guys seemed to be arguing. The guy with the metal arm, James he remembered, stood with his arms crossed over each other and his foot firmly planted in the ground. The other guy was holding two spears, using one as a pointing stick apparently, poking in the direction at the targets. They argued for another moment until finally James slumped his shoulders in defeat and snatched one of the spears Sam had been motioning around.

Clint almost wished he could hear what they had been saying, but before he could wonder about it James marched stiffly to the were the other spear-throwers had been idling, only to walk right past them. The other kids moved out of the way, like the parting of the sea, as James kept walking all the way right up to edge of their part of the arena. There he planted his feet in to the ground, his right foot a step forward and his left food behind him. He took his spear in his metal hand and hefted it into the air and no way was he going to throw it all the way from there. Even Clint would have to think twice about making that shot, he didn’t have to power to throw something that heavy that far.

Yet, the guy continued. He slightly shifted his stance, and Clint was mesmerised. He watched as he pulled his arm back, muscles flexing and metal shifting. Clint didn’t even notice he was holding his breath. The world seemed to freeze, whatever sounds he still had been hearing faded away. For a second nothing else existed but that boy with his spear, frozen as if a marble statue. Then there was a flash of silver and a second later there was a thud as the spear found its mark. Not only was it a perfect bullseye but the spear shaft was almost completely buried in the straw. 

Clint’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

Steve suddenly appeared next to Bucky and clasped his shoulder, probably saying something. Sam looked smug, hands in his pockets and leaning back a bit. He could imagine the guy that had been flirting with Steve rolling his eyes. He wanted to watch the four guys, see if they were able to break the laws of physics in another way, but his attention was grabbed by a sudden murmur of sound below him. It seemed the archery teacher had finally arrived.

This guy looked like he was Clint’s age and he seemed to be made of pure muscle. He had a wooden longbow slung over his shoulder, and while Clint didn’t doubt it that the guy could shoot a few arrows, the way his body was build looked more fit for that of a swordsman than an archer.  
  
‘Okay, you bunch of ding dongs.’ He said and he marched to stand in front of the group of archers. ‘Because the Apollo cabin are still a bunch of screw-ups I’ll show you nitwits how to handle a bow. Maybe at the end you can even hit the target, but I wouldn’t count on it.’

Something told him that that guy and Clint wouldn’t become friends. He took the bow from his lap and carefully made his way to closer to the edge of the tribunes where he could hear the group better. He crouched down, partially hidden by the shadows, and waited.

‘Now, who wants to go first.’

One of the younger kids raised his hand.

‘Uhm, Brock? We couldn’t find the wristguards.’

The teacher, who Clint wasn’t really surprised to learn was Brock Rumlow, rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. 

‘That sounds like your own problem Parker. If you actually were good for something you wouldn’t even need them. Now, form a line people! We haven’t got all day. Move!’

With some muttering between the group of kid took their places at the shooting line. After some more shouting of Rumlow and a lot more exasperated sighs, the archers released their first salvo. Even before the first arrows landed in the sand Clint knew that this group clearly weren’t accustomed to using a bow. Rumlow either didn’t notice or care. He just ordered for another salvo to be fired. The kids glanced at each other and shrugged before grabbing another arrow. Rumlow didn’t do anything to correct the kids' stance or give them tips for aiming. Even so, after a whole quiver had been emptied it appeared a few kids had figured it out on their own. Several arrows were sticking out of the targets, a few even in the blue. For a beginner’s class, it wasn’t that bad, considering from the distance they were shooting from. The arrows were gathered and this time Rumlow actually took the time to show the class something. He took front and centre and shook his big longbow from his shoulder. 

‘I know that Hermes and Demeter and whatever other gods are your parents don’t really appreciate the art of weaponry. But newsflash, this may look like a summer camp but if you don’t learn how to fight, you’ll die, simple as that. Now, I’ll show you how it’s done.’

He shifted his stance and took the standard position, and for all his boasting he could already see several things Trickshot would’ve smacked him for. His suspicion was confirmed a moment later when Rumlow let his arrow fly and it slammed in the red of the target. It wasn’t a bad shot, but for all the bragging that had come out of his mouth Clint would've thought it would at least hit the yellow. It appeared he wasn’t the only one.

‘Well Rumlow, I would say that you should stick to sword fighting but I heard that Carol said you are actually a better archer, sooo.’ 

Rumlow whipped around and scowled at the lanky brown-haired guy that had spoken. 

‘I’d better watch it if I were you Lang, unless you want to go for another dunk in the river this Friday.’

It looked like Lang wanted to say something else but then the kid who had spoken earlier raised his hand again.

‘Uhh Brock?’

‘What?!’

‘I think I really need a wrist guard.’ and even from all they high up on the tribunes Clint could see the angry red marks where the bowstring had snapped against the skin and he winced. He remembered when Trickshot refused to give him wristguards. “ _Get better and you won’t need ‘em.”_ His arms had felt raw for weeks. The other kids nodded and murmured sounds of agreement. It appeared that Parker wasn’t the only one feeling the sting of the snapping bowstring. 

‘You know what Parker, fine. I’ll make you a deal.’ He said and with a smug grin and Clint didn’t need hundred percent hearing to hear the fake kindness in it. He pointed at the targets, his arrow being the only one getting even close to a bullseye. ‘If you losers can manage to get three lousy arrows in the red we’ll find you your precious wristguards.’

He had barely finished his sentence when three simultaneous thuds could be heard. Rumlow whipped around and looked at the three arrows that had simultaneously sprouted from the targets, all three of them having hit a perfect bullseye

‘That good enough for you?’ Clint shouted into the ring as he lowered his bow, and he couldn’t quite keep the anger out his voice. Trickshot might’ve taught him everything he knew, but that didn’t mean that Clint had hated his methods. From the day he had scraped enough money together he had bought the best guards that kind of money could buy. He rarely ever shot without them, even if he had stopped needing them years ago.

Rumlow head snapped up and after a few moments, he finally spotted Clint. The other kids turned around and looked up at tribune where Clint was now standing with one foot on one of the benches. Not that Clint noticed the other kids, he was still busy staring down Rumlow.

Rumlow growled

‘Who in Hades’ name do you think you are.’

‘Well, for starters, actually a _competent_ archer. You know what, maybe if you spent less time talking shit you’d actually manage to make a good shot yourself.’

A few kids sniggered. Clint ignored them. With a few quick steps he was at the edge of the tribune. He jumped down and landed in the sand and stamped towards Rumlow, who was still standing in the middle of the archery range.

‘Or you know, you could actually care about what you're trying to teach and make sure your students are actually equipped to do archery.’

He halted before Rumlow, and some slumbering part of Clint’s brain realised that Rumlow wasn’t at all that short as he had appeared.

Despite his sneering earlier, Rumlow didn’t look impressed. He looked at him from head to toe, taking note of seemingly everything. Clint’s worn-out sneakers, his borrowed pants and shirt, the bandages that were littered all over his skin, the deep purple bruises, his messy blond hair and the freckles that were scattered all over his face. 

A lazy grin replaced the scowl and it made Clint dislike him even more. He leaned back, using his bow as support for his arm and Clint internally winced as the bow bent under Rumlow’s weight. That poor bow.

‘I should’ve known it was one of Apollo’s brats that doesn't know how things work around here.’ 

‘Oh yeah? Well, I think I perfectly know how things around here, and if it is people like you not even taking the time to make sure people aren’t injuring themselves practising, or you know, not even trying to teach something instead of just prancing around all self-important and all, well then I won’t stand for it.’

Rumlow let go of his casual appearance and took a step closer to Clint, crowding his personal space and not in the fun way. Clint was only slightly bigger, and Rumlow definitely beat him in the muscle department. 

‘Listen up, greenie. Your head still must be banged up from your spectacular car crash, but let me spell it out for you. Here at the camp you’d do good to give respect to those who can lay your ass flat in a few seconds. So If I were you, I’d start to watch my words.’

Clint made a show to give him a once over, mocking how Rumlow had looked him over a second before.

‘You, laying me flat? I’d doubt it. You look more like you’re full of steam instead of anything else.’

A concerned murmur rose from the archery kids who had been up to this point been watching the exchange wide-eyed. Some gave a nervous giggle, others scoffed, and others just shared a look. Lang tentatively took a step towards them.

‘Uhh, new kid, buddy? You might want to take a step back, man.’ He said, sounding very much like he rather wanted to do anything else than trying to stop a brawl between two teenagers both armed with a lot of arrows.

‘It was a nice shot and all, but you know, maybe fighting a son of a _literal war god_ might be a bit much for your first day’ he continued.

Rumlow grinned and not taking his eyes of Clint nodded towards Lang.

‘You heard him. Wouldn’t want to be your arrival even more of an embarrassment, right? So why don’t you go take a hike. Maybe meet up with the other Apollo kids in the showers. Scrubbing floors are the only thing you bow loving losers are good for. Too much of a coward to fight with real weapons anyway.’

Clint stood up a bit straighter, sneering. Behind him he could hear Lang letting out a defeated sounding sigh. 'I tried.' he muttered underneath his breath.

‘I don’t need a bow to show you up, Rumlow.’ Clint spat back. He’d fought Barney quite a few times and won a few times too, and he was pretty sure nobody could do him more damage than Barney had. 

A dangerous glint appeared in Rumlow eyes, and his toothy grin reminded Clint of a that of a Doberman eyeing a cornered cat.

‘Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, Apollides?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #that moment you're fifteen thousand words in and the main ship have only said one sentence to each other.
> 
> We'll get there though! Don't worry we'll certainly get there >:)
> 
> Thank you all for reading. Don't forget to leave your thoughts in a comment if you have the time, and see you at the next chapter if you don't have the time <3  
> (alsosorryforthecliffhangeri'llseewhaticando)
> 
> Clint - Apollo  
> Natasha - Aphrodite  
> Steve - Zeus  
> Bucky - Hades  
> Tony - Hephaestus  
> Strange - Hecate  
> Scott - Hermes  
> Carol - Ares  
> Rumlow - Ares  
> Quintin Beck - Iris  
> Maria - Athena  
> Pepper - Demeter  
> Peter - Demeter


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's a monday! (Idon'treallylikemondays)
> 
> I responded to the comments! Your lovely, lovely comments. If I missed you, that was an accident and I'm very sorry but I think I've got 'em all!
> 
> My gratitude for you all is ever-present, but I'm keeping it short today because I am running a fever. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! <3
> 
> TW / CW  
> Mentions of past child-abuse

Ten minutes later Clint was starting to think that maybe, maybe he should’ve just stayed up in the tribunes. He was balancing on the balls of his feet, staring anxiously at Rumlow who was still doing stretches on the other side of the circle that the spectators had formed. Even as he scanned the relaxed movements of his opponent, he rolled his wrist, swishing the sword somebody had pressed into his hand. It was shorter and more heavy than the katana’s he had prefered when the Swordsman was still trying to, well, make a swordsman out of Clint too. It would have to do, it wasn’t like he had another choice. Not one he was willing to make at least. Like giving up before the fight had even begun. 

The group of archers had made a circle around them, blocking his view from the rest of the arena. He wondered how long people would notice that something was going on. Oh god, he really hoped Natasha would stay away from the arena a bit longer. Somehow he didn’t think that this was what she had in mind when she left him alone on the tribunes. It was too late to change course though.

‘You ready to learn your place, new guy?’ Rumlow mocked.

‘You ready to get knocked down a peg, asshole?’ Clint shot back easily, mouth working before thinking what he was saying but not really caring either way.

‘Good.’ Rumlow flashed a grin, and then he launched himself towards him.

Had Clint been a rookie like everybody seemed to believe the move would’ve overwhelmed him. Rumlow was not only big, but he was also fast. Rumlow kept his sword arm wide and moved against him from Clint’s left, the tactic obviously being that Clint couldn’t jump to the right without encounterings sword, or jump left without being body checked by Rumlow’s charging body. The only way he would be able to go was backwards, and that barely counted as an escape now did it. Luckily for Clint, the move was also little more than just a bluff. Because not even Rumlow could cover al the space he was pretending to do.  
  
Clint waited a moment longer, letting Rumlow gain on him and when it was too late for him change direction Clint jumped to the left, switching his sword from his right to his left, and used his momentum to lean out of Rumlow’s swiping arm and turn around on the spot, his heel digging in the sand. In his turn he slashed at Rumlow’s leg, aiming to make a deep enough cut that would end the fight before it had even begun. However, he had given Rumlow to little credit. Instead of a deep gash, a shallow cut appeared on Rumlow’s thigh as Rumlow was already moving away.

Clint was just fast enough to brace himself and raise his sword to block the one that was coming for him. The clash that followed painfully vibrated all the way through his bruised shoulder and he gritted his teeth. Rumlow didn’t give him any moment of respite. Like a striking snake Rumlow’s sword came at him, and again, and again. Left high, left flank, right low. Clint blocked all three strikes but each time was pushed back a step. Taking a risk he pushed his sword against Rumlow’s and forced it up. Their chest were almost touching and if Clint wasn’ in the middle a fight that was proving a lot harder than he had anticipated he would’ve started loudly complaining about the irritating nature of shortswords. Stupid things always forcing people to really get into each other's personal space.

Instead of that, he was busy hooking his foot behind Rumlow’s ankle.

Yeah, he really wasn’t the person above fighting dirty.

He pulled his foot in and pushed his body forward trying to trip Rumlow, but that was where it all started to go wrong. Because instead of falling backwards as Clint had planned, Rumlow pushed forward. _Hard_. And suddenly it was Clint who was at the disadvantage with their tangled legs. Before Clint could snatch his foot back Rumlow smashed the pommel of his sword against his side and a sharp pain shot through his chest. He gasped and something else rammed his chest and he didn’t know even how Rumlow had hit him but he was going down. 

Clint knew how to fall. When he actually started trying to work some acrobatics in his act he had been convinced, and still was, by the way, he spent more time on the ground than standing up. So yeah, he had some experience falling. The trick was to use your momentum and make sure no one particular body part caught the brunt of the force, instead spreading it over your body and avoid hitting your head

However the way Rumlow forced slammed him against the ground it meant he didn’t have any momentum to use. The air was forced out his lungs by the crash on the ground and for a moment he saw stars before his eyes. A second later his vision cleared but the bronze sword was already coming for him.

He raised his arm, preparing to catch the sword on his braces instead of on the side of his head when he heard a loud CLANG instead.

‘-low! What the hell [are?] you looking [doing?]?’ 

He removed his arms from his face and followed Rumlow’s glare to the place where the crowd had parted and, aw heroes no, there was Steve again. Not only Steve, but the whole hot boy gang had followed him to what had turned out to be the kick-Bartons-ass show. Steve raised his arm and miraculously the shield he had just thrown to knock Rumlow’s sword out of his hand came flying back. 

Rumlow turned away from Clint and he inwardly cursed his fritzing hearing aids. 

‘-.. [preaching? teaching?] some exciting [fighting?] lessons.’ Rumlow rolled his head and stretched, all pretend relaxed all of a sudden. Like he hadn’t just almost smashed Clint’s head in. ‘What’s [that’s?] we’re [where?, here?] all here [we’re?] for, right?’

Steve’s chest seemed to actually puff up.

‘Not about [without] proper armour we aren’t. What in Zeus-’

Nobody was actually looking at Clint anymore. Rather looking at two apparent rivals warming themselves up for another battle. Seems Natasha wasn't the only one who disliked Rumlow. But, well, apparently not everybody was looking at the verbal sparring match. As Clint was looking at Steve he caught James’ eyes instead. James, almost unnoticeable, tilted his head ever so slightly. The unspoken question obvious and making Clint suddenly realise he was very much still lying on the ground at Rumlow’s feet. He scrambled upright, his breath hitched a bit as a sharp pain stabbed in his side. And yep, his bruised rib had upgraded to a cracked rib. At least, he hoped it was only cracked. The last thing to make this humiliation complete was if after scrambling up a broken rib would pierce his lung and he would suffocate on the spot or something stupid like that.

He walked, totally didn’t stagger, a few steps away from Rumlow and stopped himself from grabbing his side. Clint’s hearing aids fell cut out completely and he froze for a second. He was left reading lips but Rumlow wasn’t even turned towards him and Steve was talking too fast. Great, just great. He didn't know what the hell they were saying.  
  
He was very much not trying to panic on the spot when, after what seemed like ages but was probably a bit under a minute, his hearing aids sparked and the noise around him returned again.

‘Beating up newbies doesn’t really fix your street cred, Brock, what’s next, kicking puppies?’

The guy who had been flirting with Steve earlier said. He leaning back on his heels, with his hands in the pockets and looking like was rather bored instead of being involved in an argument that was starting to turn heated. 

‘Stay out of this Stark!’ Some other guy with dirty blond hair joined to stand besides Rumlow, arms crossed and with eyes flashing supernaturally green. ‘You wouldn’t even know what a sword looked like even if another one got stabbed in your chest.’ and the guy smirked as the other guy’s, Stark’s apparently, mouth turned into a thin line.

In the time his hearing aids had died and started up again the crowd around him had started mumbling. Not only the archery group was now gathered around them, with the arrival of Steve and his gang almost the whole arena had gathered around their little fighting circle. Some were glaring at Steve and his gang as the argument continued, some even jeered, while others were frowning at Rumlow and whispering among themselves. Some looked at Clint and Clint very much didn't’ want to think about what they were seeing. Beat up new-boy to high in his head probably. Somebody who didn’t belong. Somebody who couldn’t even walk around one day without needing somebody to save him. The air shimmered with heat and more faces turned to look at him with disgust clear on their faces. ‘ _Pathetic_ ’ They seemed to scream.

‘What Steve? Want to add another pathetic case to your collection? Don’t think you’ve got enough basket cases?’ The guy with the green eyes taunted.

And, and- Clint was not helpless. He and Barney had promised that themselves the moment they were headed to their first foster home. They would never be helpless again. He was going to show Rumlow and make him swallow his words. He didn’t need some stupid short sword to do so. Hell, he didn’t even need his bow. His fists would do just fine. Silver flashed in the corner of his eyes as he was just about to launch himself at Rumlow when a voice boomed through the whole arena.

‘What in the EVERLOVING HADES is happening here?!’ and simultaneously, everybody froze. Well, not everybody. A group of kids couldn’t seem to move fast enough to make place for a guy that looked like the word ‘menacing’ had come to life and started to wear a trench coat and an eyepatch. He strode, didn’t walk but actually strode, inside the fight circle and glared at the group that had caused all the ruckus. Apparently one look at Rumlow, still sluggishly bleeding from the shallow cut in his thigh, and Clint, still slightly hunched over and covered in sand from his fall, was enough information to conclude what happened. His one-eyed glare landed on Clint, and he didn’t look impressed. Clint couldn’t help but slink in on himself. He wasn’t particularly fond of men of authority, and well, with the way the whole arena had gone quiet in an instant? This guy reeked of power, hearing him talk didn’t really prove the opposite. 

He really didn't need to introduce himself. Going from the stories Natasha had told this morning the only guy this could be was the Camp Director. Fury.

‘Rumlow. As you seem to have forgotten that proper armour is necessary when sparring with rookies,’ -and Clint gritted his teeth because hell Dunesque had made sure that he was anything but a rookie- ' why don’t you go spend some time scrubbing the armoury. Maybe to soap will clear your head of shit ideas too.’ A few people in the crowd sniggered. Rumlow clenched his jaw but with gritted teeth, he nodded.

‘Yes, Sir.’ He simply said. 

Then Fury’s eyes land on Clint again.

‘And you, Barton. My office. Now.’

And Clint didn’t move. 

Fury raised his eyebrows.

‘What? You forgot your name or something? I said _move_.’

‘Sir, with all due respect, he didn’t-’ Steve started.

‘Spare me your excuses, Rogers. This guy wanna pick fights on his second day, he better be man enough to face the consequences.’ Fury said.

‘Go.’ Somebody whispered next to him as he was softly nudged. It took all his willpower to do not anything more than flinch. Something like, throwing another punch. How long had James been standing next to him, and how long had Clint failed or notice?

James looked at him with a grim look on his face. But it seemed to more like a remnant of having glared at Rumlow for quite some time than being directed at Clint. Looking Clint into his eyes he gave Clint the smallest of nods.

And, you know, James had actually saved his life, he remembered. He kinda hoped that meant that he wouldn’t send him to his doom only a day or so later. After another second he let out a breath hadn't realised had been holding. For a second he closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and forced his shoulders to relax.

Then he opened his eyes and gave James a sharp nod. Without looking back he marched towards Fury, avoiding the eyes of the crowd that he could feel on him. Even if things went wrong, Clint had buckets of experience fighting against older male figures. He would be fine. Or at least, that was what he was telling himself over and over again right up until to the moment the office door slammed shut.

-o0o-

Fury’s office was located in the Big house. It didn’t look like any other room in the Big House though. Where the general interior of the big house looked like a cosy log cabin owned by a slightly lonely guy with a knack for collecting weird knick-knacks and a love for pool and movie nighs, Fury’s room seemed to be entirely made out of a black steel. Like an industrial fridge pokemon evolved into an office. Some plagues and certificates were hung on the wall in fancy looking wooden frames. A dark, eerily shimmering sword was displayed in a glass case. Standing on the desk was a large empty bowl made of bronze. 

‘Close the door.’ Fury said, not looking back to see if Clint had actually made his to the office.

Fury seated himself on his big leather office chair behind his desk. Leaning forward on his elbows and fingers touching just before his chin. He stared at Clint, kinda looking like at him like he was a frog that he was going to dissect and still debating to where he was gonna put the incision. Clint for his part? He was standing by the door, which he had indeed closed, he was already feeling claustrophobic. He was itching for his bow. Hell he would even settle for one of his arrows. At least he still had his pocket knife still tucked in his pants. 

‘Sit.’ Fury said, indicating at the chair which was squarely positioned in front on his desk. 

When Clint didn’t move, Fury casually leant back into his chair and raised an eyebrow.

‘You know, it is quite miraculous. I don’t think somebody else has given me this much grief in such a short time. Well, that is if you don’t take into account Stark, of course.’

The only reaction Clint gave was the clenching of a jaw. Fury regarded him still. This time looking at him from tip to toe, probably taking in the bruises and bandages that were still covering almost all of his skin. It was quiet for another second, then Fury sighed.

‘You know when I heard from Chiron a half-blood as old as you had arrived, I was quite surprised. Half-bloods of your age, especially a child from a god as powerful of Apollo, well, simply put, they get killed if they don’t make it here before a certain age. Yet, here you are. Literally crashing into my camp and already wielding a bow and clearly knowing how to use it, getting claimed immediately and showed off like your daddy’s favourite but acting like you don't know what in the Hades is going on. And you know the thing about surprises, Barton? I don’t like surprises. So, I did some digging.’

He opened a desk drawer and grabbed a file out of, casually tossing it on the desk. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure out what was in it. Clint flinched.

‘Luckily, I have quite a few quite sources out there. And what they found? It wasn’t pretty, and something tells me we’ve barely found half of it. Quite the eventful life you’ve led.’

He paused for a second. Maybe expecting Clint to response or something, to excuse the shitty life he’s lead or to deny it all. Well, if he was expecting that he could wait for all eternity for all he cared. He didn’t owe the guy shit. After a second Fury continued.

‘So I get that you spent your whole life fighting for any kind of scraps you could get. But that part of your life? It’s over. That bullshit prison mindset that made you find the biggest guy you could find and get into a fight with him? That is not going to fly here. Understood?’ and he said it in such a way that Clint couldn’t help but answer.

‘Yes, Sir.’ He said stiffly, trying to sound if he meant it but not actually sure if he did.

Fury looked over him once more, then the glare softened a little.

‘Look.’ he said almost sighing. ‘I get that it is much, I get that your world got flipped upside down and that you are overwhelmed. Chiron is an old fashioned guy, most kids would be ecstatic to hear where they came from. But that was the old days, in the present, the story is quite different. But, you aren’t the only one who has trouble dealing with their sudden godly parent. You aren’t even the only one with childhood as shit as yours. So, my advice for you is that you stop being a brat, pause for a second and actually take some time to get to know your peers at the camp instead of picking a fight with them. You may find that there are actually people worth getting to know. Hell, if you try even you can probably even make more than one friend.’

And it wasn’t quite the kind loving speech you expected from somebody that was supposed to be a mentor, but Clint is damned if it didn’t feel like it was supposed to be one. And saying like it didn’t surprise Clint? Well, that would be lying. He had expected to get his ass beat, or maybe even get kicked from camp. Not the advice to make some friends. 

‘I-... uh. Okay.’ He kinda stumbled over his words, not quite sure what to say else. 

‘Good.’ Fury smirked, then the glare came back on his face as it if had never been gone. ‘Now sit, Because you and I are going to talk about the _rules_ we have here at camp and why we don’t have any goddamned sword fights without any _goddamned proper armour._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Cliffhanger survived :) now onto the next part of the story! Like, the other Apollo siblings! and like, maybe our ship can finally kick off!
> 
> (I mean, they will, I already wrote it and oh boi^)
> 
> Thank you all for reading! You lovely, lovely people. If you got the time don't forget to leave your thoughts! It gives me, will always give me, life!
> 
> Thank you all <3
> 
> Clint - Apollo  
> Natasha - Aphrodite  
> Steve - Zeus  
> Bucky - Hades  
> Tony - Hephaestus  
> Strange - Hecate  
> Scott - Hermes  
> Carol - Ares  
> Rumlow - Ares  
> Quintin Beck - Iris  
> Maria - Athena  
> Pepper - Demeter  
> Peter - Demeter  
> Sam - ???  
> Fury - ???
> 
> PS: The ??? means that Clint doesn't know it yet!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! We're back!  
> You remember that fever from last monday? Well it got _worse_ so I got a bit behind schedule, like the schedule of my whole life lol. That's why I haven't gotten around to answering your lovely reviews of the last chapter, but I will get to that in the next few days! I just wanted to throw this chapter into the wild before I went to sleep.
> 
> But I'm back! The virus & fever are gone so we're back on track. I didn't get as far ahead on the next few chapters as I would've liked so the next chapter maaaaayy take a few days longer, but not too much <3
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! <3
> 
> TW/CW  
> Mentions of past child abuse

When Clint was done listening to Fury’s reciting what must’ve been every rule the camp had his head was swimming. His ears were ringing, but that could, of course, be explained by the tinnitus he sometimes suffered from, but well, he wasn’t feeling that generous today. Fury had given him some golden candy that he had explained was ambrosia. In low quantities it apparently could heal half-bloods, in high quantities, it could kill them just as easily. It had tasted like coffee, the good stuff Barney had once gotten him when he was having a rare bout of illness, and when he had been a hell of a lot younger. It worked, a bit. A few of his bruises that should’ve taken days, if not a few weeks, to heal were already starting to fade. His cracked rib had momentarily reduced to a dull ache. He was also feeling a bit lightheaded.  
  
He trudged outside of the big house and he thanked his training that he didn’t fall heavily as Lucky pummeled against his legs, tail wagging with so much force his whole body had joined in the movement. He lowered himself to the ground so he could properly greet the dog and was rewarded with a tongue dragging over his face.

‘I really, really thought I could leave you alone for like, an hour without you dying. I kinda pitched you for a guy who would try to avoid getting into fights, not actively starting ones.’ Natasha said casually. It wasn’t an accusation, just stating a fact. 

‘He was being a dick.’ He still said defensively.

‘Hmmm. So were you, I heard.’  
  
‘He started it.’ He grumbled, but Natasha ignored him.

He raised his head and shielded his eyes so he could see her properly. The sun was getting low, it was probably already getting around dinner time. Correction, it apparently was dinner time because Natasha was holding two plates filled with more food than one measly plate was probably meant to hold. She settled next to him on the porch, settling in the lotus position.

Before Lucky could dive for the food she had brought Clint gave him a firm but gentle shove. ‘No, Lucky, that is people food. Get down.’ and Lucky huffed a bit, clearly not agreeing with the situation but settling down next to Clint anyway. Natasha had brought him several fruits, some bread, sausages and even and even a few pizza slices. It was quatro formaggi, and well that wasn’t really pepperoni, but at the end of the day, pizza was pizza right?

‘I won't [don’t] really know Matt [what?, Cat?] you like, so I brought [bought?] you a bit of everything.’ She said, not bothering to continue the discussion of who started what.

Clint was kinda glad about that, because in a small part of his mind he doubted he would win that discussion. However, the bigger part of his mind only got attention for the pizza he was already stuffing himself with.

‘What?’ he asked. Man was he hungry. Breakfast seemed ages ago and because of his little fight, he had skipped lunch.

‘Hmm. Nevermind. You know you’re supposed to offer some of your food to the gods before dinner, right?’ 

He nearly choked.

‘What? You mean there are even _more_ rules? I just spent hours listening to what must’ve have been the whole rulebook and even then I am missing stuff? Oh man, am I now cursed or something?’

‘Relax.’ Natasha reassured him. ‘I put in an offering for you at the fire. I prayed. “Dear Apollo, I just want to let you know your latest child is already a headache of mine and that he may be more stupid and anticipated. Please help him to not make any more dumb decisions because, while it may seem like a bad idea, I like him.”’

‘Oh.’

He didn’t really know what to say. Natasha didn’t seem bothered by his lack of an answer. After a second he also then decided that she wasn't the kind of person to keep quiet if she wanted something, so he stayed silent, musing his pizza. That silence continued for a few more moments when Clint thought of something. ‘Wait, are you supposed to pray to you know… your parent or something?’

Natasha shrugged.

‘No, not really. You just pray to whatever god that you think can help you the most with your current situation. Most of the kids believe that they’re their parents favourite though, so a lot are just praying to them instead of anybody else.’ She shrugged again. ‘Or rather anygod, I guess.’

Clint rolled one of the grapes between his thumb and index finger. None of the fruits were bruised or anything else than perfectly ripe. Kinda different from that time when he and Barney hadn't yet found the circus and spent their nights dumpster diving behind the grocery store, happy with any food without mold on them.

‘You pray to your godly parent a lot?’

It took Natasha a bit longer to answer this time.

‘No, no I don’t [won’t?].’

When she didn’t say anything else Clint didn’t press any further. If she didn’t tell him now she probably had good reasons. They ate the rest of their meal in comfortable silence. Clint wasn’t complaining. The whole day was kinda catching up with him. Absentmindedly he gave Lucky one of his pizza slices, which Natasha scoffed at. _-‘People food, he says_.’- and he was slowly chewing on one of his sausages and thinking. When he heard the word ‘parent’ he could still smell the reek of alcohol and see the red hair of the guy he had thought had been his actual father. It was difficult to replace that image with a literal god, who apparently had never bothered to make sure Clint was safe from all the dangers that lurked in the world for half-bloods, let alone like, for normal kids. Dangers like the man that had beat the hearing out of him.

He softly shook his head. Maybe he could've dealt with that. Hell, one deadbeat dad or two deadbeat dads, it didn't matter. But it wasn't only that. But here, parents seemed _important_. But the only thing that actually connected him to the god everybody was associating him with was his skill in archery. He wasn’t a musician or an artist. He wasn’t a healer. He sure as hell couldn’t see into the future. It was just… archery.

To be honest, he didn’t even see himself praying to the guy, or maybe, any god for that matter? He had spent his whole life without praying to any god he was… fine. He was fine. He totally was fine. 

After they were done eating Natasha gathered up the plates and brought them into the big house. She came back outside and patted the dust of her pants. 

‘The Apollo kids are futzing [setting?] up for the sing-along campfire, so their cabin is probably practically empty if you want to check it out.’

He didn’t know how Natasha kept guessing how he felt. He also supposed it was kinda rude that he had spent the whole day avoiding what were supposed to be his siblings. But, well, you know… Family wasn’t really his strong suit.

‘You want me to go with?’ She asked.

He wanted to steal a car and get as far away from anything family he could. But he hadn’t seen any cars around, and he didn’t think the one that he had arrived in was good for another round. Not only that, apparently monsters were hiding in every shadow. Going by the month he had spent on the road, trying to survive on his own? Apparently, when you didn't have anybody to watch your back, it became a bit harder. He had nearly died… well, a lot of times.

Here? He only got into one teeny tine fight. He even made a friend. He was doing fine, he was doing great. No need to worry about a few more strangers, right?  
  
He didn’t need somebody to hold his hand. He also didn’t need somebody judging him if he chooses to hide in a few bushes and spy on the cabins to make sure nobody was actually in, or judge him if he decided to break in using a window instead of a door.

‘Nope.’ He said, popping the P. ‘I’m good, thanks.’ It was said with such forced cheer that even his banged-up hearing aids had managed to pick up on it.

‘Hmmm.’

She seated herself on the porch swing that was suspended from the overhang, making it sway softly with just a nudge of her foot against the ground.

‘Just remember, we’re not so different here from each other as you think we are.’ She said with clear eyes, and Clint could swear that her eyes weren’t blue before.

‘I’ll keep it in mind.’ He answered, skipping the stair and landing litly on the dusty road leading to the great house.

‘Uh-huh.’ She hummed. She had her eyes closed, head tilted backwards and seemed totally at ease, like in the world couldn't, or rather, hadn't ever bothered her. He had no idea if she was really that relaxed or faking it. Maybe she was leading by example. Whatever the motive was, he doubted it was working.   
  


-o0o-

  
He was glad he had paid attention to Natasha’s tour. The camp wasn’t big. However, it was big enough to get lost in between the little hills and valleys that the camp was made out off. From the main dirt roads desire paths kept sprouting, leading to some shrubbery or some clustered trees. With every step he took, it became harder and harder not just to follow one such path off the road and just sneak his way back to the cabins. Or rather, sneak in any other direction than the cabins. Hell, it kinda felt like he had spent his whole life taking such desire paths instead of the main road. Not the good kinda desire paths made by lovers sneaking to find some dark place, but rather those made by thieves and moonshiners.

As he was walking past the creek the sun had truly gone. And with the sun gone he suddenly became aware of the chill. He absentmindedly tried to rub some warmth in his arms, already thinking he made a mistake refusing Natasha’s help.  
  
He mentally kicked himself. He was _fine_ on his own. Had been for quite some time, ever since he had walked in on Barney packing up his stuff. Unconsciously he clenched his jaw, feeling the ache where Barney’s fist had nearly broken it. He was fine, fine, fine, and fine. But damnit, for a moment, walking all alone on that dirt road? He hated Barney, hated him for cussing at Clint, for picking Dunesque over him, for saying that Clint didn’t have a shred of loyalty in him. Hated him for leaving.  
  
Hated him for not waiting five more minutes so that Clint could catch up with him at that stupid bus stop.   
  
He rubbed his face, quickly forcing the tears away before they could fall, shakily releasing the sob in his throat.

He hated how much he missed him.  
  
And, futz it, Barney would call him stupid for crying. 

‘ _You don’t need anybody, never again. You just gotta hurt ‘em more than they hurt you.’_

And Clint rather not be hurt at all. After Barney had left, after Trick and the Swordsman had gotten worse, it had just been him and his bow and-

His bow.

He didn’t have it.

And, and- Damnit he wasn’t doing this without his bow. He wasn’t going to meet any other futzing family without his stupid bow.

He abandoned the path. The last place he had was the arena. It probably was still there, Natasha hadn’t brought it with her for dinner, but then again, she hadn’t been at the arena when Clint’s impulsiveness had gotten the better of him. Then he remembered what she had said about the Hephaestus kid taking it upon themselves to ‘upgrade’ abandoned weapons. 

And, and- if anybody had touched his bow? Well, let's just say that the fight that would follow would make his match with Rumlow that morning look like nothing more than a friendly wrestling match.   
  


-o0o-  
  


He didn’t see a lot of people on his way to the arena. In the distance, he saw a glow coming from the amphitheatre, and he imagined that it was there where most of the kids currently were, doing sing-along or something like that Natasha had said. There weren’t many kids out and about, and the few that passed him didn’t say anything more than a short ‘hi’ or ‘hey’. The darkness probably made it difficult for them to recognise him as the kid who got his ass handed to him this morning. Or maybe they didn’t care. 

He found the arena easily enough. It seemed abandoned. None of the torches that were scattered on the outside wall were lit. Instead of climbing the chairs up the tribunes as he had done with Natasha this morning he went around, looking for the main gate.

One of the big wooden doors was shut, but the other one was standing wide open. He paused for a second, trying to listen if he could hear anything and a second later deciding it probably was useless anyway. The way his aids had been acting there could a monster truck rally be going on inside and it was still possible that Clint wouldn’t hear more than a vague rumble. He shrugged the thought of him, hunching his shoulders lightly and entering the arena.

Inside it was a bit less dark, the white sand reflecting the little light of the waning moon. He scanned his surroundings. It was deserted. Even the sand had been smoothed out, ready for tomorrow's training sessions. Even with the little light, his sharp eyesight could see that there was nothing left laying behind in the sand.

He cursed. You would’ve thought that growing up with thieves he had learned to take better care of his stuff. Apparently not.

Muttering under his breath he stalked to the edge of the sandpit. This morning, after that Parker kid had gotten that short sword for him, he had laid his bow and quiver on one of the abandoned armoury cases, fully intending to retrieve it the second he was done with the fight.

Maybe he was wrong? Maybe it was half-buried in the sand or something? Not that that would be a good situation, but at least then he had the damned thing.

It wasn’t there. He cursed louder, walking along the edge of this side of the arena. Scanning the ground and looking for something he already knew wasn’t there. Four times he scanned the archery side of the arena, growing more frantic each time.

‘Futzin futz… futz’ He groaned and frustrated he brushed his hand through his hair. He _needed_ his bow. His skills with it was the only thing worthwhile about him. How the hell could he expect to fit in if he brought _nothing_ to the table? How the hell could he expect to be accepted here, among the _literal children_ _of gods_ when it would only take one second for everybody to figure out to find out there was nothing godly about him? How the hell-

He couldn’t suppress his angry scream as he kicked the wall. He felt stupid. He shouldn’t feel this angry about losing his bow again. He had broken enough of them training that he should’ve gotten used to replacing it. However, now? He felt naked without it. A kind of desperate hopelessness nestled in his chest as he slid down the wall on the ground. Leaning against the cold rock he pulled his legs in against his chest and let his head drop against his knees, burying his still bandaged hands in his hair. Unwillingly he let out another sob.

How the hell-

‘Hey, are you alright?’

Clint’s head shot up.

Standing a few steps from him was the guy- James, with a worried look on his face. He was frowning slightly. In one of his hands he was holding a book, his metal thumb still in between the pages from where he had probably stopped reading. He still had his hair in that messy bun.

Clint quickly rubbed his eyes.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ He sniffed, immediately feeling stupid. He took his hands from his face and looking down again a bitter laugh escaped him. Or it was another sob. He didn’t really know.

James’ frown deepened a bit.

‘You don’t look fine.’

‘Well, I am _fine_.’ Clint bit back, this time a bit more defensively. He huddled a bit closer in on himself.

‘Is this because of what Fury said?’ James continued, suddenly growling angerly ‘Because if so I swear on the Styx I’ll make him regret ever-‘

What?’ Clint looked up. ‘It’s not because of- Fury just told me to not pick fights without wearing armour or something.’

‘Oh.’ James said, sounding a bit sheepish. His fist uselessly dropped to his side again.

For a second they stared at each other. Clint still sitting on the ground and James still staring down at him.

‘Then what-‘

‘I’m fine!’ Clint nearly shouted, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

Instead of being thrown off by Clint’s sudden outburst the guy raised an eyebrow.

‘Pal, Buddy, I spent my whole life around stupid blondes and I kinda became an expert on the whole ‘I’m fine’ act. You? Definitely not fine.’

Clint dropped his head.

‘Maybe you should go bother those blondes instead.’ He muttered angrily, very well aware of how childish he must be sounding.

James huffed amused. Then he shut his book with a soft thud.

‘You mind if I sit?’ He asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Too bad.’ and James settled down next to him. They weren’t touching, but they weren’t that far apart either.

Clint kept his mouth stubbornly shut, staring straight ahead of him. James for his part? He just sat next to him, seemingly completely relaxed. Like he hadn’t just caught Clint mid breakdown.

Clint, throwing tantrums in the abandoned arena, not getting any closer to getting his bow back, or getting any closer to meeting the rest of the Apollo cabin. Just, sitting uselessly in the sand.

He sighed.

‘Say, in the hypothetical situation,’ He asked wearily, giving in a bit. ‘that somebody lost their bow after exercise. Where would that hypothetical bow end up?’

‘This about your bow?’

‘Yes. No- I don’t know, it’s just-‘

He groaned in frustration.

‘I promised Natasha I would get to the Apollo cabin and finally meet a few of ‘em, but how to do hell am I supposed to do that? Just go up to ‘em and say “Hello, I’m Clint Barton. Before I came here I was part of a circus that called itself the circus of crime which I had always thought I was a joke but apparently it wasn’t. My last brother got sick of me and left me behind in said circus after I found out about the crime thing so now I’m here to see how long it will take before you guys get sick of me too.” Or should I go with “Hi, my name is Clint Barton, the idiot who crashed his car in the hill when he arrived and got beat up the second. Also, I’m apparently too stupid to keep track of the thing most important to me and keep losing it.”’ He finished bitterly.

He didn’t look at James but he could feel eyes on him. He buried his head back in his hands. Maybe he would just go away, decide that Clint was too much to deal with at the moment. Hell, Clint wouldn’t blame him. Maybe if it just had been about the bow… But no, Clint threw out his sob story of a life out there and dumped it on the guy. Like he could help with any of it.

‘Okay, for the record.’ James started. ‘Challenging Rumlow was super stupid, like, really stupid. But you definitely didn’t get beat up. What I heard the only thing the camp has been talking about is wondering how you even managed to slash Rumlow as you did, seeing as you’re new and all.’

Clint shrugged noncommittally.

‘Yeah, but I ain’t new at sword fighting. Just, not as good with it as I am with the bow.’

James shifted a bit besides him.

‘Hmm, we figured as much. You learned that at the circus then?’  
  
‘T’was my act. You’re sitting next to former amazing Hawkeye, _he has never missed!_ ’ The last part he said mockingly, copying the tone the ringmaster always announced him. The pride he had normally felt at the title was replaced by something more bitter. He sighed, moving to get up.

‘I’m sorry I dumped that all on you. But I’ve got to find my bow and then I’ve got go... I don’t what I am gonna do after that, maybe like, pray or something. I don’t know, maybe Apollo can already send those other kids a memo to not expect too much.’

But before he could properly move away James grabbed his wrist.

‘Hey, nobody here is blaming you for having a hard time. We get it. It’s hard. And, I’m not saying that you should never go and actually meet-up with the Apollo cabin, because you should, but, you know. If it is too much right now? Well, fuck ‘em. They can wait another day before you show your face. Nobody is forcing you to do anything.’

‘But I promised Natasha-’

‘Natasha?’ James scoffed. ‘I’m pretty sure you gotta try a bit harder before she’s going to get mad at you. Did you know she nearly started a brawl at dinner? I’ve never seen her angry like that, and going on the stupid look on Rumlow’s face he hadn’t either.’

He smirked as he continued.

‘It was good Chiron walked in when he did because I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t hesitate taking the place down if it meant she could land hit on Rumlow.’

‘I-, She did? She would?’

James shrugged.

‘Yeah’ He said. ‘and she wouldn’t be the only one.’ He then added darkly, face looking a lot more grim than it had a second ago.

‘Oh.’ Clint said, not really knowing how to react. 

James looked up again. Face suddenly a bit flushed. He released Clint’s wrist, which Clint now realised he still had been holding and took a step backwards. He coughed, looking away he said.

‘As for your bow, I’m pretty sure I saw someone from the Hermes cabin grabbing it when they were clearing up the targets. You should go by them tomorrow and see if they still have it. Otherwise, it probably got stored with the rest of the bows in the armoury. Eitherway, you won’t have to worry. Nobody is just going to run off with it.’

And… that wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. At least nobody had thrown it in the lake. Probably.

‘Thanks.’ Clint said.

‘No problem.’

For a second they stood in awkward silence. Then James muttered something Clint couldn’t catch and he picked up his book.

‘Okay.’ He said, talking in a volume that Clint could actually make out what he was saying. ‘I’m going to the amphitheatre, see if Steve is done ignoring Tony’s googly eyes yet. No pressure, but wanna come with?’

But Clint shuffled a step backwards.

‘uh, I think I’m just gonna, gonna go back to the big house or something. See if my dog is doing alright.’

And emotion he couldn’t quite catch flashed over James’ face. Then he shot Clint a smile that probably was meant to be reassuring, but it was too dark to figure out.   
  
‘Alright, I’ll see you around then.’

‘Yeah, see ya around.’

James was halfway to the door when Clint remembered

‘Wait! James!’ he shouted, and James turned around.

‘Yeah?’

And this time it was Clint who had a flush on his face.

‘I just wanna say- Thank you, for helping me with the.. chicken thing, you know, not letting me die and all that.’

Something satisfied sparkled in James’s eyes.

‘Anytime. You just gotta promise me one thing.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Call me Bucky.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUCKY is here!  
> Man, I love my disaster bois. 
> 
> Can I also just say that you all are amazing for sticking around? We're six chapters in and you're still here! I love you guys for it, really, truly, love.
> 
> Sadly for Clint, in the next chapter the hiding places truly have run out and he'll have to confront the thing he has been avoiding for six freaking chapters, so I hope I see y'all there! 
> 
> Clint Barton - Apollo  
> Natasha Romanova - Aphrodite  
> Steve Rogers- Zeus  
> James "Bucky" Barnes - Hades  
> Tony Stark - Hephaestus  
> Stephen Strange - Hecate  
> Scott Lang - Hermes  
> Carol Danvers - Ares  
> Brock Rumlow - Ares  
> Quintin Beck - Iris  
> Maria Hill - Athena  
> Virginia "Pepper" Potts - Demeter  
> Peter Parker - Demeter  
> Sam Wilson - ???  
> Director Fury - ???
> 
> Thank you so much <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL LIFE SURE IS A THING RIGHT NOW HEh
> 
> A very short Q&A
> 
> Q: Have I abandoned this project?  
> A: No!! <3 but you know, life has a way, or not, and it is suddenly May already which is like, way too late in the year. 
> 
> Q: Why did you not update?  
> A: Well, life got in the way of my hobbies. You know how it goes, but going it does so that means easy tidings will come soon enough <3
> 
> Q: Are you regularly updating again?  
> A: Probably not. This is me being awake at 3:46 AM, missing writing and really wanting to go back and freaking doing it again
> 
> Q: are u ok  
> A: Yes, thanks for asking <3 I'm hoping that next month thing will be easier and I'll be able to make time & headspace again to write proper chapters again, instead of just outlines
> 
> Q: who is the best?  
> A: YOU GUYS WHO COMMENTED AND STAYED WITH ME AND OMGASH I'M SO SORRY I WILL GET TO YOU REALLY. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH! YOU ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF FANFICTION.

The walk back to the big house seemed a lot shorter than the other way around. He half hoped, half feared Natasha was still lounging in the porch swing, so that he could talk to her some more about the Apollo kids. Until now the only thing he knew about them was that they liked music and that at least one of them liked pulling pranks. And, that wasn’t bad per se. He could contribute little to the music thing, and at the circus, a prank would more often reward you with a beating than a laugh so...

He had no idea of the time when he arrived at the big house. He hadn’t met any other campers on his walk back, and the light from the amphitheatre had faded. He kinda wondered if it was already past the curfew and he was at the risk of being pummeled and eaten alive by some nanny harpies.

Natasha wasn’t waiting on him by the porch swing, but Lucky was. When he caught sight of him he started wagging his tail and struggling to work himself upright. And Clint rushed the last few steps up the porch to make sure Lucky didn’t hurt himself in his enthusiasm.

‘No, no- don’t. Stay, Lucky-’

Clint sat down next to the dog, and Lucky panted happily, settling now he didn’t have to get up to drag his tongue over Clint’s face.

Clint gently pushed the dog’s face away from his and started scratching him behind the ears. Lucky sighed contently and rested his head on Clint’s lap and Clint was left to stare at the same strawberry fields he had been staring at only yesterday night.

His time at the circus hadn’t been easy, hell most of the time it had been opposite of that, but at least his first day there had gone better than his first day here.

‘Just gotta keep tryin, eh, Lucky?’ He said softly, getting only another sigh in response. A smile played about Clint’s lips.

‘Yeah, you’re right. We’ll try again tomorrow.’

-o0o-

The first thing Clint became aware of when he awoke was the fur under his hand and the heavy feeling on his chest.

‘Mmmhr’ He murmured, reaching out and his hand catching a hand full of dog. Automatically his hands when to the spot behind the dog’s ear, as an award he could feel Lucky thump his tail against the mattress, and actually hear it too. Awh, hearing aids, no. He’d fallen asleep with them again.  
Clint had sat staring at that strawberry field until the cold of the night had finally gotten too much. Not really knowing where else to go he sneaked into the big house, which door luckily had been left unlocked, and quietly made his way to the infirmary. He was kinda sure that Fury slept in the big house too, but if Clint was good at one thing (besides archery of course) it was sneaking about, even if he had to smuggle a 66-pound weighing, still-half limping, up the stairs.  
He’d settled on the bed, fully intending to at least take off his shoes, but Lucky had immediately jumped next to him, and he was pretty sure the dog shouldn’t do any jumping for quite some time, let alone be able to do it.  
Seemed like the dog had been blessed with some quick healing after all.  
Evenso, Clint softly berated the dog for being reckless, but the message might have been lost because the same time the dog was also being very much petted when he must’ve just... dozed off.  
With the dog sleeping on his chest, no flashbacks of the burning circus had come. For once, Clint was finally feeling truly rested. Petting the happy dog on his chest, laying again in a sunspot, for a moment he kinda had the feeling nothing could even come close to bothering him right now.  
That was, until the door slammed open.

‘Do you know how long I have spent trying to find you! I can’t believe you’ve just been at the freaking _infarmery_. Do you know how close I came to tearing the Aphrodite cabin door down this morning? Close! Let me tell you that!’

And Clint nearly threw Lucky on the ground kicking himself upright. He slammed his head against the headboard all the while the dog yelped in surprise. Cursing he grabbed the dog by the scruff of his collar, saving him from an uncomfortable tumble to the ground.

‘Auw.’ He said, still holding onto the dog with one hand and rubbing his head with the other one.

‘Oh my god are you alright?’ The intruder said, the indignant anger disappearing for something sounding a bit more worried.

‘I- uh.’ He looked up and saw a girl standing in the doorway. She looked younger than the other than Clint. Her sleek black hair was pulled tight in a ponytail at the back of her head. She was wearing the same orange shirt everybody here was wearing, complete with bead necklace. A quiver was attached to her hip, half-filled with arrows with purple fletching, it was matched by the sleek golden longbow that was thrown over her shoulder. She was holding out her hands in worry, like how some might approach a startled animal. Which, well, let’s just say Clint was startled alright.

‘I didn’t mean to scare you like that.’ She continued. ‘It’s just- when this morning you _still_ weren’t at the cabin, and nobody is telling us freaking _anything_ . We just thought you got lost and wandered into the woods at something, _which you should not_. Thank Zeus for Steve, he told me you must be at the big house or something. And only Athena knows he might’ve guessed that. But, like, here you are! Still in one piece!’ Then she took a second look at him. ‘Well, mostly at least.’

Then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second. She then released the breath she had been holding and plastered a smile on her face.

‘I’m sorry. Let’s do that again. Hi, I’m Kate, Apollo’s cabin househead, and I’ve been searching for you since like, forever.’

And Clint couldn’t help but freeze at the mention of Apollo. Not that she seemed to notice, she just walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, hand already reaching out and petting Lucky’s back while she continued ranting.

‘I don’t know what in Hades’ name possessed Natasha to just like, grab you without introducing you to your new siblings. I mean, _rude._ Okay, maybe it was because we still were busy doing those stupid showers because Johnny can’t apparently be trusted when Parker is riling him up. But like, then I had to hear that our new guy just went up and freaking fought Rumlow?! Without back-up? And like, then Natasha almost broke down the dining pavilion defending your honour or something like that and our table also got up to shout at Rumlow and Rollins and his gang but at the same time and we were all wondering if you were alright but we kinda figured you’d join up after Fury but well… you didn’t and then this morning we kinda… panicked?’ She said the last word while wincing.

Clint just stared at her for a second, eyes wide.

She was nothing like Barney. Actually, she might’ve as well been the total opposite of Barney.

‘I’m sorry?’ He said hesitantly, still a bit confused, maybe a bit overwhelmed, by her outburst.

‘What?’ She looked then looked at him, a second later beaming a smile at him. ‘Oh, no worries! After all, I’ve found you.’ She blew a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail in the tirade out of her face, then reached out a hand at him.

‘So, again. I’m Kate Bishop, cellist, househead, and the best shot at camp.’

And Clint? Something about her, the way she had smirked at the last sentence, the way she ranted without remorse, the fact that her nails were painted purple? Well, he kinda figured he maybe had been wrong about the other Apollo kids after all. Or at least, had been wrong about this one.

He grabbed her hand, recognising the callus marks and even he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

‘Clint Barton, and I’m sorry, but now that I’m here it seems you’re gonna be the _second_ best shot.’

Her face broke open in a true grin then.

‘Yeah? Well, we’ll see about that.’

-o0o-

He followed Kate down the stair, keeping one hand on Lucky’s back to make sure the dog, ready to pull the dog back if it decided to rush down the stairs. Dog could hurt himself if it did.  
They passed Fury, whose sudden appearance almost gave Clint a small heart attack. But instead of berating them, or asking them why they were here, he just gave them a short nod.

‘T’was bout time.‘ He grumbled, turning back to his newspaper.

‘I’ll take good care of him!’ Kate shouted behind her as she marched out the door, ignoring Fury’s remark or not having heard it.

Clint hurried after her. By all means, he wasn’t slow. But Kate was walking with a speed and determination that betrayed the fact that she wasn’t over her agitation yet. Or maybe she was always this hyper.

‘-and _I know_ Natasha meant well, and like, nobody wants to mess with Natasha. But, it’s your third day and you haven’t met _any_ of us! I was talking to America about it, and she said we just should’ve ditched cleaning the showers and accepted the double cleaning duty. But I think Natasha could’ve you know, at least notified us she was the one who grabbed you yesterday morning? Do you know how long it’s been since we’ve had a new kid at the Apollo cabin? I think-’

And that was where his hearing stopped working properly. Aw, hearing aids, no. A few seconds ago he had hearing Kate just fine, a little bit louder than was comfortable with but you know, it was better than hearing nothing at all. Now his aids had decided to cut out at random intervals instead, like one of the wires was loose and would only work if you got it fixed at a certain angle. It was only his left aid this time, sadly it was also the aid that was currently closest to Kate and most vital in the part of him actually being able to understand her.

To his credit, Clint didn’t stumble, or otherwise falter, or otherwise betray that something was wrong. Going by the way her lips kept moving, was still ranting and raving and name dropping people Clint had and hadn’t met and seemingly blaming everybody else for the fact that Clint, ever since he had heard the name Apollo, had spent all his time avoiding everything to do with it.

At the moment Kate didn’t seem to be bothered by his lack of response, so maybe he could hold off the “yes hello I can’t actually hear” conversation a little bit longer.

He had caused enough trouble as it was.

So instead of doing anything drastic, he forced himself to look around at the surroundings that were already becoming familiar.

They were walking away from the big House into the camp, following the same path he and Natasha had walked yesterday but without using the detours. While the sun couldn’t be up for that long, the morning chill had already disappeared. Today it was going to be a warm day. Other campers were also out and about, and Clint even thought he recognised a few faces already.  
He wondered, when that had happened.

-o0o-

When they walked into the dining pavilion, the first thing he noticed was that his hearing aids really were disagreeing with the situation. He was assaulted by the noise. The wall-less tent was filled to the brim with kids talking, laughing, shouting over each other. He quickly counted twenty tables, and all of them were occupied with rowdy crowd of people, none of them sitting still. Between the tables, nymphs and satyrs were walking, bringing about food from plates that did not seem to get any more empty, even if food was taken from it. In the middle of the pavilion there was a fireplace, but only the ashes from last night remained. Goblets clinked, a plate shattered on the ground. He could smell the scent of freshly baked bread.  
These days he had enough trouble understanding somebody when they were talking one to one, and honestly, he couldn’t remember a time where it had been easy understanding people when they talked over each other. But this? This was almost worse than the circus crowd. Then he spotted the group of mostly golden-haired kids sitting together at the table, one girl playing with drumsticks and one guy with a guitar strapped to his back, and he almost turned around right there right then. No way he was doing this. Nope, nope, nope. He was already taking a step back when something grabbed his attention. Literally.

‘Hello? Yes? Demigods and Half-Bloods and others, if I could get your attention for a moment?’

And Clint could hear the voice coming through his hearing aids crystal clear, as if they had never been broken at all. His eyes snapped to were somebody had climbed on the table, and with something of a start he recognised the person as Stark, this time having his glasses rested on his head instead. And were Stark was… Yes, seated at the table Stark was standing on Steve was sitting with his face buried in his hands, looking as if he had given up. Sam was sitting next to him, staring up with a bemused smile on his lips. But it wasn’t only those two sitting at the table, he also spotted the red hair of Natasha. She wasn’t looking up at him though, rather glaring up at Stark, her arms crossed as she was leaning back a bit. She looked… angry, irritated?

He had to give it to Stark, because he didn’t know how he did it but the volume of the rowdy crowd seemed to drop somewhat.

‘Speech!’ Somebody shouted

A few people cheered, but even with his hearing, he was also pretty sure he heard a few groans. Not that Stark seemed to mind. He just stood there revelling in the attention, giving the crowd a smirk like he was born to be on stage. He reminded Clint a bit of his old Ringmaster.  
Stark let the commotion go on for another few moments before he raised his hands, calming the crowds a bit.

‘I just wanna take this moment and thank you all for coming, really, it means a lot. You didn’t have too-’

‘Haven’t got all day, Stark!’ somebody else in the crowd shouted.

‘Well, shut up and I’ll be able to finish faster.’ He said, then he raised his mug, looked at it for a second and then downed it in one go.

Even Kate rolled her eyes at that one.

After the mug was empty grabbed his sunglasses from his head and put them on again like they were supposed.

‘I just wanted to let you all know that this Friday the Hephaestus cabin is making a little change to the status quo, because _somebody_ is _insinuating_ things that aren’t _true_ . Also, Rhodey, my dear Platypus, I miss you.’ He said the last part pointing at some guy sitting a few tables over, and the guy also rolled his eyes but put a hand on his heart anyway. ‘So, long story short. Hephaestus cabin is joining Carol’s flag this Friday. And with that, Hephaestus _out._ ’

And that? That got a reaction out the crowd. The blonde girl with the red golden star tattooed on her arm smirked. The kid Clint recognised as Parker seemed to groan and drop his head against the table. Pepper looked like she wanted to strangle somebody. Steve was slowly shaking his head with something akin to disbelief. Natasha just pursed her lips as Stark dropped down next to her, who seemingly changed his mind and he went to sit on Steve’s other side, probably feeling a bit safer now there was a wall of muscle between him and Natasha and her ability to pull knives out of nowhere.

As if feeling his look on her she looked up. The moment she spotted him, her face softened a little. A satisfied smile appeared on her face.  
Clint shot her an uncertain look back.

She then raised an eyebrow and ever so subtly nodded to the table the guy with the guitar was sitting at and- oh yeah she was actually aboard of this let’s-go-meet-the-other-Apollo-kids plan.

And, oke hey _owed_ her. For this, at least. So, silently he resigned his to his fate. Might as well get it over with.  
‘So.’ He said casually, or at least, tried to say casually. He was pretty sure if you actually looked at him for longer than two seconds the nerves would be obvious.

‘Where are all the other Apollo kids sitting?’ and he was relaxed, totally relaxed. Yep, he was fine-

‘What?’ Kate asked, before she almost literally seemed to lit up. ‘Oh!’ She then actually grabbed his wrist, dragging him through the tent and Clint had to resist his urge to dig his heels in the sand.

‘Don't worry they’re going to love you.’ Kate said over her shoulder, seemingly more out of habit than because she was aware of Clint’s nerves. Before Clint could respond, or rather, object, they abruptly halted in front of one of the picnic tables.

‘Everybody!’ Kate beamed, and all the eyes at the table turned to look at them and damnit Clint wouldn’t shrink, he had performed in front of hundreds of people. He wouldn’t cringe or think about Barney or-

‘This is Clint Barton.’

‘Uhhh… Hi.’ He said, waving a little and hoping he didn’t look as awkward as he felt. Not that Kate seemed to notice, she just went continued with her story.

‘And Clint Barton, these are.’ He pointed at the girl with a fade haircut who had been playing with a set of drumsticks. ‘Gwen Stacy.’ and the girl nodded at him.

‘Heya.’ she said. But before Clint could respond Kate pointed at the guy with the guitar strapped to his back.

‘That is Johnny Storm, who I am currently _not_ talking too.’

‘Awhh Kate, I said sorry! How was I supposed to know Fury hated the Bee Gees? Who hates the Bee Gees anyway? All I’m saying it, it was not my fault we got punished that bad.’

‘ _Later_ , Storm.’ Then she pointed to another girl, this time with long sleek black hair, who was neither sporting archery or music equipment.

‘That’s Linda Carter.’

‘Hey!’

‘And that is Melissa Gold, that is Mark…’

And that was how Clint got introduced to his new family. Each and every one of them was smiling at him, seemingly happy enough to meet him. As he looked around the table he realised with a shock that a lot of them were probably _younger_ than him. Or rather, none of them were older than him like Barney had been. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Was it worse? Was _he_ the Barney in this situation? And, that thought hit him like a freight train, so hard it nearly made him dizzy. Whatever this was, suddenly with his whole heart he realised he did not want to be like Barney.

‘-and that’s everybody!’ Kate finished with her hands on her hips.

‘I.. uh’

‘What instrument you play?’ Storm called at him, leaning over the table to be able to hear the answer better.

And Clint rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Uh.. I don’t... really, at least, actually...uhm-’

‘Cool.’ Storm said, and for one blessed second Clint actually felt a massive wave of relief. That was until Storm nodded towards the girl Kate had introduced as Melissa. ‘Mimi here could use a second singer backing her up.’

‘Screw off, Storm.’ She said, giving him the finger and not looking up from her porridge.

‘Don’t hate me because I tell the truth, Melis. You know you love me.’ Storm said smugly.

‘Storm, knock it off. We still gotta talk teams.’ Kate said as she sat down heavily, motioning for Clint to sit between her and Storm. Feeling that it was a bit too late to run, and feeling a bit more comfortable now that they weren’t talking about music anymore, Clint sat down. Seemingly out of nowhere a plate, cup, and cutlery appeared in front of him.

‘You can just pick whatever drink you like, as long as it isn’t alcoholic.’ Linda said to him as she saw him looking with a frown.

Clint, for a moment forgetting his nerves, actually scoffed.

‘What? So if I say coffee it actually- Holy shit.’

He swallowed whatever he wanted to say because his cup transformed into something more akin to a mug and filled itself with -he took a sip, having stopped long ago being afraid by the scalding heat- and yes, it actually was coffee.

Forget whatever doubts he had been having, forget the three days of angst. If this place had actually mugs with infinite self filling coffee he was never going to leave.

‘Yep.’ Kate said, popping the p. ‘Doesn’t give you more than three cups a day though.’

Clint choked and made a sound that was something in between a squeak and a whine.

‘Three?!’ He choked out. Three was nothing, three was barely a _start_. Back at the circus more than a few days had been spent with the only thing keeping him upright was the caffeine. Wasn’t like the circus had lots of downtime to catch extra sleep, especially for brats like him

‘Geez, with you looking shocked like that you and Stark should start a club. I swear half the time that guy spends at breakfast is lamenting the caffeine restriction.’ Gwen said.

‘Urgh, don’t start with Stark. The stunt he just pulled,’ Kate said, chewing her toast and pointing with her thumb over her shoulder at the place where Stark had climbed on the table. ‘switching teams like that, it messes with our whole strategy for this week.’

‘Strategy?’ Clint couldn’t help but ask, but Kate shook her head.

‘It’s more like, months and months of drama and gossip coming together each week so that people can settle their scores and get back at each other. Most of the time in a friendly matter of course.’ but Kate then shrugged, seemingly changing her mind ‘sometimes in a not so friendly manner.’

And Clint’s thought immediately went to Rumlow. Seemed like there was a score left to settle there.

‘Does that mean-’ he started, but was interrupted by Melissa.

‘Speaking about gossip and drama.’ She said, smirking coyly. ‘What do you guys think made Stark break away from Rogers side, trouble in paradise?’

‘Tsk, please, as if Stark would ever give up Rogers now that they’re finally dating. Or not-dating, or whatever they are playing at.’ Gwen said, with something of a frown of her face, but she also shrugged.

‘I wouldn’t.’ Storm said with a dreamy face. ‘Ouch.’ he then said, grimacing and rubbing the spot on his nose where Kate had hit him with a cheerio.

‘Stop being a creep.’

‘Ouch Kate. Rude. That totally wasn't creep-’ he started with a glare on his face.

‘Please, you were practically drooling.’ Gwen intervened

‘Like you're drooling for that Miles Morales guy, you mean?’ Storm shot back.

‘Miles and I are just friends.’’

‘Yeah, but maybe somebody should tell Miles that.’

‘ _Guys_.’ Kate said exasperated.

‘Hey, how’s America doing, Kate?’

‘She fine, Johnny thanks for asking, and if you don’t want to end up with my fork in a very unpleasant place that is the last question you ask.’

‘Even if that question is about Clint here and Romanova?’

And being suddenly name-dropped like that nearly gave him whiplash. He had been silently drinking his second cup of coffee, focusing on the conversation and glad that for the first time in ages he was able to understand what everybody had been saying. Now, for the second time this morning, he choked on his coffee.

‘What?’

‘Johnny, knock it off!’

‘What? Everybody’s been thinking it! With her being Aphrodite’s kid and all. Especially after that fit she threw last night. Maybe Clint is her first “true love” project or something.’ He said, drawing quotations mark with his hands as he said ‘true love”. Like it was something ridiculous.

Kate rolled her eyes.

‘Natasha been here longer than any of us and she’s never dated anybody, what made you think Clint would change that?’

Storm caught Clint’s eyes and winked.

‘Well you know it. Hard for anybody to resist the Apollo charm, eh?’

‘Urgh, gross.’ Gwen shuddered. ‘He’s your brother.’

‘That was not what I _meant_. Zeus, you guys are impossible.’

‘You are the impossible one, Storm.’ Kate huffed. ‘And we still have to talk about teams, this morning walking at the big house I nearly got ambushed by Pepper. I swear she was hiding in the bushes or something.’

‘Well, don’t know why we just don’t join Athena this week. You heard that the Hecate cabin is this week teaming up with them? I, for once, would like to play a game of capture the flag without getting lost in the woods because of Strange’s stupid portals.’ Johnny grumbled over his scrambled eggs.

‘Yeah but that would go up against the Ares cabin…’ Kate mused.

‘So, since when do we care we what the _Ares_ cabin does?’

‘Well, maybe since yesterday night you threatened to set their cabin on fire after Rollins touched your bass?’

‘Hmmm. Fair point.’

‘And,’ Kate continued. ‘I’d like for Clint to actually _survive_ his first capture the flag. If you think Rumlow isn’t out for revenge after their fight at the arena? You’re crazy.’

‘Like actually teaming up with Ares cabin is actually going to stop that from happening.’ Gwen scoffed.

‘But don’t worry, Clint!’ Johnny said cheerfully, throwing an arm over Clint’s shoulders and pulling him close. ‘We’ll protect you from the mean, bad, bullies.’

‘I don’t _need_ protection.’ Clint grumbled as he shrugged Storm’s arm off of him. ‘Certainly not from somebody the likes of Rumlow.’

‘You sure about that? Because-’

‘Why you went head to head with Rumlow anyway?’ Gwen interrupted Storm, probably not liking the sudden defensive glint in Clint’s eyes and getting between the two before something unpleasant started happening. It worked, because suddenly Clint felt his unease crawling back.

‘I, uhm-’ He rubbed the back of his neck again. ‘I was you know, watching the training with Natasha when Natasha had to help, uhm. Pepper, with something. So I was watching, and then the archery lesson started right? But then one the kids, Parker, had some trouble working pulling back without a wristguard, and Rumlow was being a dick about that. So I kinda felt… like… somebody had to do something about that?’ He ended on a bit of an uncertain note. Barney had always berated him about getting into fights, especially if he was the one starting them. But instead of rolling their eyes at him, or calling him stupid, the others just nodded.

‘Ugh, I told Fury that we were almost done, he should’ve just pushed the archery lessons a few hours.’ Kate rolled her eyes.

‘So that is where everybody is getting their arms screwed up.’ Storm muttered angrily.

‘Serves Rumlow right, somebody finally telling it how it is.’ Gwen agreed with him.

‘Next time, you should just call us. We’ll learn you a few hexes and jinxes you can just use instead.’ Melissa said as she took another bite out of her apple.

‘Or, or you could just go to the Director next time and avoid a fight?’ Linda suggested.

‘Linda, I love you, but sometimes you should just like, throw a punch or something.’ Melissa sighed.

‘And who is going to patch you guys up if I do?’ Linda said, not really impressed. ‘Johnny, I’ve seen your stitches and I wouldn’t trust you to fix up a tear in my jeans.’

‘What the hell you bringing me into this for?’ Storm sputtered, and Melissa laughed. ‘She’s right!’ And as the quibble continued, their group eating and talking, and well, having a good time, something warm settled in Clint’s chest. He looked around, and none of the people at the table was scowling at him, or berating him, or pushing him away, or telling him to get lost. No, thinking about it, since the moment he sat down at the table he had been included as if he had always been sitting there, right between Kate and Storm.  
For the second time that morning Clint was thinking that maybe, maybe he had been wrong about a few things. He looked around the dining pavilion some more, and something red caught his eyes.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, a small smirk playing about her lips. And even though Clint didn’t like being wrong, he couldn’t stop the grin creeping on his face.

Maybe, for once, it was good that he had been in the wrong about a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING. THANK YOU FOR COMMENTING, I *WILL* ANSWER YOU, BECAUSE YOU ARE THE BEST.
> 
> THIS STORY WILL BE COMPLETED THIS YEAR DON'T WORRY
> 
> Clint Barton - Apollo  
> Kate Bishop - Apollo  
> Gwen Stacy - Apollo  
> Johnny Storm - Apollo  
> Melissa Gold - Apollo  
> Linda Carter - Apollo  
> Natasha Romanova - Aphrodite  
> Steve Rogers- Zeus  
> James "Bucky" Barnes - Hades  
> Tony Stark - Hephaestus  
> Stephen Strange - Hecate  
> Scott Lang - Hermes  
> Carol Danvers - Ares  
> Brock Rumlow - Ares  
> Quintin Beck - Iris  
> Maria Hill - Athena  
> Virginia "Pepper" Potts - Demeter  
> Peter Parker - Demeter  
> Sam Wilson - ???  
> Director Fury - ???
> 
> love you guys, stay safe
> 
> (alsdontstayawaypast2amitmakesyouramble)


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